UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 

Dr.    KHKP::')T    C.    MOORE 


l&SB 


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SCOTT  AT  SMAII.IIOI.ME  TOWER 


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THE 


BOYHOOD   OF   GREAT  MEN. 


INTENDED   AS 


AN  EXAMPLE  TO  YOUTH. 


Lives  of  great  men  all  remind  us 

We  can  make  our  lives  sublime, 
And,  departing,  leave  behind  us 

Footprints  on  the  sands  of  time  ; 
Footprints,  that  perhaps  another, 

Sailing  o'er  life's  solemn  main, 
A  forlorn  and  shipwreck'd  brother, 

Seeing,  shall  take  heart  again. 
Let  us,  then,  be  up  and  doing, 

With  a  heart  for  any  fate  -, 
Still  achieving,  still  pursuing, 

Learn  to  labor  and  to  wait. 


Longfellow. 


Witf)  Jrllustratfons. 


NEW    YORK: 

HAUPER  &  BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS, 

329   &   331    PEARL   STREET, 

FRANKLIN   SQUARE. 


^ 


CT 


101 

E23b 


PREFACE. 


That  a  powerful  interest  attaches  to  the 
boyhood  of  great  men  will  hardly  be  denied  by 
^    any  one  who  has  given  the  slightest  attention 
v>)     to  the  subject.     The  juvenile  exploits,  adven- 
tures, and  aspirations  of  those  who  have  per- 
formed memorable  services  to  their  country 
y     and  their  species,  led  mighty  armies  into  the 
V    field,  advanced  the  progress  of  humanity  and 
"^    civilization,  achieved  important  triumphs  in  lit- 
(;)$    erature  and  science,  or  associated  their  names 
honorably  and  indissolubly  with  some  great 
profession,  are  matters  fraught  with  instrac- 
tion  to  the  young,  and  with  interest  to  all. 

The  object  of  the  following  pages  is  to  place 
before  the  reader  brief  sketches  of  the  early 
career  of  those  who  have  fought  their  way  to 

215123 


iv  PREFACE. 

eminence  and  distinction  in  the  various  walka 
of  life ;  and  thus  to  develop  in  the  mind  of 
youth  noble  tastes  and  high  principles,  as  well 
as  to  encourage,  stimulate,  and  sustain  that 
spirit  of  industry,  which  is  essential  to  the  at- 
tainment of  any  position  worth  striving  for. 
Youth  is  the  season  of  generous  emotions,  he- 
roic impulses,  and  high  resolves ;  the  career 
of  the  boy  usually  foreshadows  that  of  the 
man ;  no  day  passes  without  thoughts  and  ex- 
periences which  will  lead  to  good  or  evil,  just 
as  thc^  are  pondered  and  profited  by ;  and  the 
importance  of  directing  the  attention  to  laud- 
able pursuits,  by  actual  examples,  at  an  age 
when  the  heart  and  mind  are  so  peculiarly 
susceptible  of  lasting  impressions,  can  scarcely 
be  questioned. 

The  fame,  honors,  and  rewards,  consequent 
upon  youthful  talent  being  brought  to  full  and 
brilliant  maturity,  depend  almost,  if  not  alto- 
gether, on  the  energy  and  perseverance  cm- 
ployed  in  the  struggles  of  life.  In  the  follow- 
ing sketches  there  is  hardly  one  instance  of  a 
man,  however  highly  gifted  and  richly  endow* 
cd  by  nature,  who  has  risen  to  a  conspicuous 


PREFACE.  V 

position,  and  filled  a  large  space  in  the  publio 
eye,  without  the  most  assiduous  and  diligent 
devotion  to  his  chosen  pursuits.  It  is  entire- 
ly by  painstaking,  self-denial,  determination, 
and  midnight  study,  that  the  men  who  move 
the  world  place  themselves  in  positions  that 
give  them  the  power  of  performing  great  and 
worthy  actions ;  or,  as  the  American  poet  ex- 
presses it — 

"  The  heights  by  great  men  reached  and  kept, 
Were  not  attained  by  sudden  flight ; 
But  they,  while  their  companions  slept. 
Were  toiling  upward  in  the  night." 

Indeed,  nothing  great  can  be  accomplished 
without  arduous  exertion  and  a  resolute  pur- 
pose ;  but  all  biography  proves  that  where 
these  are  truly  and  honestly  manifested,  diffi- 
culties yield  and  fall  before  the  aspirant  who 
is  animated  by  a  real  sense  of  duty,  and  a 
clear  spirit  of  well-regulated  ambition.  Those, 
who  have  fairly  and  faithfully  exercised  theso 
wortny  means,  have  seldom  failed,  in  the  long 
run,  to  rise  to  positions  of  credit,  respect,  and 
honor.  Moreover,  no  period  of  life  can  be  so 
appropriate  as  boyhood  for  laying  the  found- 
ation of  that  influence  arising  from  acquired 


ri  I'REFACE 

knowledge  and  habitual  industry.  The  pleas, 
insr  dreams  of  childhood,  and  the  romantic  vi- 
sions  of  youth,  may  and  will  pass  away ;  but 
the  recollections  of  faculties  truly  exercised, 
intellect  properly  applied,  duties  nobly  per- 
formed, and  great  thoughts  terminating  in  no- 
ble  deeds,  impart  a  satisfaction  to  the  mind, 
which  neither  length  of  days  nor  the  cares  of 
the  world  can  efface. 

A  work  intended  to  incite  youth  to  industry 
and  goodness  can  require  no  apology,  except 
for  the  imperfect  manner  in  which  it  is  exe- 
cuted ;  and  the  writer  of  these  pages  is  too 
well  aware  that  these  imperfections  are  nei- 
ther so  few  nor  far  between  as  could  be 
wished 


CONTENTS 


I. 

|}oets. 

SIR  WALTER  SCOTT II 

POPE « 


U. 

3U(fitotfai;s. 
C IBBON .% 

SIRJAMES  MACKINTOSn 1i 


111. 

Crftfcs. 

DR.  JOHNSON 53 

lORD  JEFFREY 63 


IV. 

Statesmen. 

CANNING 7S 

WEBSTER fU 


TUi  CONTENTS. 

V. 

iatopcrs. 

LORD  MANSFIELD 90 

LORD  ELD«W no 

VI. 

JJtulanttrtopfsts. 

WILBERFORCE 123 

Sm  THOMAS  FO\|-ELL  BUXTOX 133 


TIL 

^stctinomccs. 

GALILEO 147 

FERGUSOX 157 


VI  rr. 

Xatural  ^Itflosopticrs. 

SIR  ISAAC  SEWTOX ITO 

GASSENDl 181 

FRAXKLIX 186 


IX 

i^atticmattcians. 

PASC.VL IM 

DaI.KMBBBT 20S 


X. 

Chemists. 

CATEXDISB MO 

SIR  HTMPIIRV  DAVY 216 


CONTENTS.  « 

XI. 

Sailors. 

LORD  ST.  VINCENT *2l 

NELSON   230 

XIL 

SolTjfers. 

DUKE  OF  MARLBOROUGU 839 

BONAPARTE 24fl 


XIII. 

Ittusicians. 

HANDEL 259 

MOZART 865 


XIV. 

IJamters. 

SIR  T.  LAWRENCE 276 

SIR  DAVID  WILKIE isC 


XV. 

Sculptors. 

CANOVA 3M 

TUORWALDSEN 317 


XVI. 

Sct)oIars. 

SIR  WLLLLVM  JONTES     323 

DR.  ARNOLD  389 


X  CONTENTS. 

XVII. 
IDibincs. 

UISUOP  KEN 331 

DR.  PARR as 

DR.  CHALMERS  347 

XVIII. 

Surjjcons. 

JOHN  HUNTER 358 

SIR  ASTLEY  C*  OPER 863 


XIX. 

■Naturalists. 

SIR  JOSEPH  BANKS 3T-> 

AUDUBON SSI 


LIST  OF  PLATES. 


SCOTT  AT   SMAILIIOLME  TOWER Frmitispiece. 

CANNING'S  MIMIC  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS 78 

EARLY  HOME  OF  WEBSTER 87 

RESIDENCE  OF  WEBSTER  AT  MARSHFIELD 97 

FERGUSON'S  FIRST  ATTEMPTS  IN  ASTRONOMY 1G2 

NAPOLEON'S  WARLIKE  PREDILECTIONS 249 

WILKIE'S  EARLY   STUDIES 287 

YOUNG  CANOVA'S  SKILL  IN  MODELING 309 

CHALMERS'  FIRST  SERMON 351 

ASTLEY  COOPER'S  DEBUT  IN  SURGERY 3G7 


BOYHOOD  OF  GREAT  MEN. 


CHAPTER  I. 
JJoets. 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  WALTER  SCOTT. 

The  time-honored  saying,  that  a  poet  is  born,  not 
made,  may  be  quite  true  so  far  as  it  goes ;  but  that 
he  Avill  sing,  like  the  lark,  irrespective  of  the  influ- 
ences to  which  he  is  subjected,  and  the  advantage 
he  takes  of  circumstances,  is  hardly  confirmed  by 
the  lives  of  those  who  have  left  the  impress  of  their 
poetic  genius  on  the  mind  of  a  busy  world. 

It  would,  perhaps,  be  impossible  to  name  any  poet 
the  story  of  whose  life  is  more  attractive  than  that 
of  the  author  of  "Marmion,"  and  it  would  be  difli- 
cult  to  mention  any  period  of  it  more  interesting  than 
his  boyhood ;  for  it  was  then  that,  seated  by  some 


14  POETS. 

ancient,  ruinous  fortress,  or  haunted  stream,  he  im- 
bibed his  strong  love  of  legendary  lore,  and  his  enthu- 
siastic admiration  of  picturesque  scenery,  which  were 
afterward  harmoniously  combined  and  displayed  in 
those  marvelous  works  of  poetry  and  romance  that 
charm  the  imagination,  touch  the  heart,  and  dazzle 
the  fancy,  of  every  reader. 

Fortunately  his  own  magic  pen  has  left  an  account 
of  his  early  years,  which  scarcely  any  can  peruse 
without  regretting  its  brevity ;  and  it  has  been  ex- 
plained and  illustrated  by  one  who  thoroughly  under- 
stood the  "mighty  minstrel."  From  such  a  store- 
house it  may  not  be  impossible  to  gather  sufficient 
materials  for  a  brief,  but  perhaps  not  altogether  un- 
instructive  sketch. 

Sir  Walter  Scott's  father,  a  most  respectable  Avriter 
to  the  Signet,  derived  his  descent  from  the  renowned 
Border  family  of  Harden,  the  exploits  of  whose  mem- 
bers the  great  bard  loved  so  well  to  celebrate  and 
dwell  upon.  Some  ancient  traditions  might  linger 
around  the  hearth  of  the  worthy  lawyer,  but  he  had 
not  one  particle  of  poetry  or  romance  in  his  nature. 
A  Presbyterian  after  the  most  rigid  fashion,  the  Sab- 
bath was  so  strictly  kept  within  his  walls,  that  the 
being  allowed  to  read  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress"  was 
deemed  a  favor  of  no  trivial  kind.  Had  Scott  passed 
the  first  few  years  of  his  life  in  his  father's  house,  it 
is  uidikely  that  there  would  ever  have  come  out  of  it 
a.  poet,  with  the  soul  of  a  cavalier,  who  labored  as 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  WALTER  SCOTT.  13 

Biduously  to  restore  the  Pvoyalist  heroes  of  a  bygone 
age  to  popular  favor,  though,  in  all  probabiUty,  he 
would  have  gained  distinction  in  some  other  field 
than  that  of  literature.  Dr.  Johnson  tells  us,  that 
the  true  genius  is  a  mind  of  large  general  powers  ac- 
cidentally determined  to  some  particular  direction  , 
and,  as  it  happened,  an  accident  which  induced  a 
physical  infirmity  was  the  cause  of  Scott's  mind,  at 
so  early  an  age,  receiving  impressions  that  were  ere 
long  reflected  in  that  of  the  world. 

Walter  Scott  was  born  on  the  15lh  of  August, 
1771,  at  the  head  of  the  College  Wynd,  in  Edin- 
burgh, his  mother  being  a  daughter  of  Dr.  Ruther- 
ford, a  Professor  of  Medicine  in  the  University,  who 
added  lively  wit  and  literary  ability  to  his  professional 
accomplishments.  The  future  bard  is  represented  as 
having  been  an  uncommonly  healthy  infant.  He 
providentially  escaped  the  extremely  perilous  guard- 
ianship of  a  consumptive  nurse,  and  showed  great 
signs  of  health  and  vigor  till  he  was  eighteen  months 
old,  when  a  severe  fever  brought  on  that  lameness 
which  luckily  M'as  not,  in  the  end,  such  as  to  mai 
the  symmetry  of  his  noble  form,  or  to  embitter  for  a 
moment  his  still  nobler  mind.  However,  it  caused 
him  to  be  removed  for  change  of  air,  under  the  care 
of  a  love-sick  maid-servant,  who,  deeming  him  the 
cause  of  separation  from  her  lover,  was,  according  to 
her  own  confession,  sorely  tempted  to  cut  his  throat 
with  her  scissors,  and  bury  him  in  a  morass  near 


16  POETS. 

Sandie  Knowe,  "  the  thatched  mansion."  of  his  gray- 
haired  grandsire,  whom  he  has  described  as — 

"  Wise  without  learning,  plain  and  good, 
And  sprung  of  Scotland's  gentler  blood." 

Hard  by  stood  Smailholme  Tower,  the  scene  of 
his  fine  ballad,  "  The  Eve  of  St.  John  ;"  and,  in  tho 
immediate  neighborhood,  those  dismantled  baronial 
castles,  mouldering  abbeys,  and  ruined  towers,  which 
struck  his  infant  eye,  and  touched  his  childish  imag- 
ination, with  a  force,  the  efiect  of  which  was  felt  to 
his  dying  day.  Here,  while  living  under  his  grand- 
father's roof,  he  dated  his  consciousness  of  existence. 
He  speedily  became  a  great  favorite  with  all  about 
the  farm,  and  was  rejoiced  when  carried  about  in  the 
open  air  ;  but  particularly  enjoyed  himself  in  the 
company  of  the  old  "cow-bailie,"  who  would  take 
him  on  his  shoulders  when  going  to  watch  his  flocks  ; 
and  Scott  delighted  to  roll  about  on  the  grass  among 
the  sheep  and  lambs,  for  which  he  entertained  a  feel- 
ing of  adection  that  lasted  all  his  life.  He  was, 
some  years  later,  by  the  kindness  of  his  uncle,  trans- 
ferred to  the  back  of  a  Shetland  pony,  which  no  doubt, 
he  mounted  with  an  anxious  desire  to  imitate  tho 
deeds  of  some  of  the  old  foraycrs,  whose  memory 
"  tradition's  simple  tongue"  still  kept  alive  in  tliG 
district.  Perhaps  the  recollection  of  his  own  early 
feelings  prompted  his  description  of  the  heir  of  Brank- 
Bome's  "  childish  sport  :" 


HOYHOOD  OF  SIR  WALTER  SCOTT  ll 

"  A  fancied  moss-trooper,  the  boy 
The  truncheon  of  a  spear  bestrode, 
And  round  the  hall,  right  merrily, 
In  mimic  foray  rode." 

He  was  much  fonder  of  exercise  iii  the  open  air 
tlian  of  his  book ;  but  was  soon  taught  to  read  by 
his  "Aunt  Jenny,"  who,  as  well  as  her  aged  mother, 
communicated  to  him  much  ancient  lore,  and  lulled 
him  to  rest  with  such  old  Border-gathering  songs  as 
her  memory  furnished.  Different  sounds  from  the 
rude  rhymes  thus  chanted  would,  it  must  be  confess- 
sd,  have  found  their  way  to  his  infant  ears  had  he 
been  brought  up  by  his  strict  parents.  As  it  was, 
he  learned  by  heart  the  ballad  of  "  Hardicanute," 
much  to  the  annoyance  of  the  venerable  clergyman, 
who  found  it  utterly  impossible  to  enjoy  a  sober  chat 
with  his  parishioners,  so  resolute  was  young  Waltei 
m  shouting  it  forth. 

About  this  period  Scott's  father  was  advised  to  send 
him  to  Bath,  the  waters  of  which,  it  was  suggested, 
would  be  of  advantage  to  his  weak  limb.  Accompa- 
nied, therefore,  by  his  aunt,  he  went  to  London  by 
sea,  visited  some  of  the  remarkable  places,  and  then 
traveled  to  Bath,  where  he  remained  a  year.  This  stay 
proved  of  little  or  no  benefit  to  his  health,  but  must 
have  been  highly  beneficial  in  opening  up  his  young 
mind.  He  was  introduced  to  all  the  amusements 
suitable  to  his  age  which  the  place  afforded,  and  was 
quite  bewitched  with  the  theatre.  So  deeply,  irdeed, 
B 


18  1'(>ETS. 

was  it  graven  on  his  memory,  that  fil'ly  /ears  ailer 
ward  he  described  the  feehngs  with  which  it  in- 
spired him,  just  as  if  it  had  been  an  affair  of  the 
previous  day.  He  never  recalled  his  juvenile  im- 
pressions of  the  place  without  a  feeling  of  pleasure , 
.nferior,  however,  to  that  expressed  at  the  recollec- 
tion of  being  laid  among  the  crags  and  rocks  about 
his  grandsire's  homestead,  viewing  the  landscape 
around  with  delighted  eye,  or  exclaiming  "  Bonny  I" 
as  the  lightning  flashed  around  him.  For  there  il 
was  thatjM'hile  listening  to  his  relations'  stories  of  th& 
olden  times,  his  mind's  eye  caught  the  first  glimpse 
of  that  past  state  of  society,  half  military,  half  pas- 
toral, which  he  afterward  described  with  so  much 
effect,  of  those  stalwart  moss-troopers  whose  word 
was  "snaffle,  spur,  and  spear;"  and  of  those  gallant 
knights,  "dreaded  in  battle,  and  loved  in  hall,"  who 
seem  to  ride  along  his  pages  in  glittering  mail,  with 
waving  plumes  and  lofty  crests. 

From  Bath  he  went,  for  a  short  while,  to  Edin- 
burgh, and  then  returned  to  Sandie  Knowe.  In  his 
eighth  year  he  was  taken  for  sea-bathing,  to  the  his 
loric  village  of  Prestonpans,  where  lie  became  in 
timate  with  an  old  military  veteran  oi'  the  name  of 
Dalgetty,  who  was  glad  ot  so  ready  and  eager  a 
listener  to  his  tales  of  the  German  wars,  in  which 
he  had  been.  That  hi.s  attention  had  been  of  tho 
deepest  kind  the  future  fully  proved. 

Scott  now  returned  to  his  father's  house  in  Edin- 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  WALTER  SCOTT.  I'J 

buvgh,  and,  after  a  little  prepatory  training-,  was  sent 
to  the  High  School,  in  1779,  where,  according  to  his 
own  account,  he  was  no  apt  scholar,  hut  "  glanced 
like  a  meteor  from  one  end  of  the  class  to  the  other." 
He  soon,  however,  became  a  great  favorite  with  hia 
schoolfellows,  who  used  to  assemble  around  and  ad- 
mire him,  as  he  told  countless  stories.  It  might 
have  been  natural  for  him  to  betake  himself  to  study, 
owing  to  the  lameness  which  appeared  to  unfit  him, 
in  some  measure,  for  the  athletic  sports  of  other  boys. 
But,  with  his  characteristic  energy  and  systematic 
rebellion  against  circumstances,  he  set  himself  to  gain 
renown  in  the  very  games  for  which  he  might  have 
been  considered  disqualified  ;  and  the  valor  and  prow 
ess  of  the  descendant  of  "auld  Wat,"  as  he  prided 
himself  on  being,  soon  became  conspicuous  in  the 
desperate  frays,  in  which  the  well-clad  champions 
of  George's  Square  engaged,  against  the  ragged  but 
brave  and  hardy  urchins  of  the  Crosscausewav. 

On  his  class  being  transferred  to  Dr.  Adam,  the 
rector,  Scott  came  more  into  notice,  and  several  of 
his  translations  in  verse  from  Horace  and  Virgil  were 
highly  thought  of.  He  should  have  gone  direct  to 
college,  but  his  health  becoming  extremely  delicate 
from  rapid  growth,  he  was  again  consigned  to  the 
care  of  his  aunt,  who  now  resided  at  Kelso,  which 
he  calls  "the  most  beautiful,  if  not  the  most  roman- 
tic village  in  Scotland."  Here  he  awoke  to  that 
feeling  of  pleasure  derived  from  the  contemplation  of 


20  POETS. 

those  natural  objects  tf  wliicli  he  had  so  fine  a  per- 
ception, and  rejoiced  over  Percy's  "Ballads"  with 
heartfelt  joy.  Sometimes,  while  poring  over  them 
in  a  huge  platanus-tree  in  the  garden,  he  lost  ali 
thought  of  dinner,  usually  the  chief  consideration  to 
a  youth  with  the  sharp  appetite  of  thirteen.  Ho 
states  that  the  first  few  shillings  he  possessed  were 
devoted  to  the  purchase  of  the  beloved  volumes,  and 
that  henceforth  his  companions,  and  all  who  would 
hearken,  were  deluged  with  recitations  from  their 
pages.  Indeed  he  had  an  extraordinary  memory, 
which  was  always  used  to  good  purpose,  and  ever 
retained  such  passages  of  an  author  as  pleased  him. 
lie  was  particularly  fond  of  Spenser,  whose  knights 
and  ladies  were  well  calculated  to  delight  his  im- 
agination, as  they  continued  to  do  in  his  greatest  days. 
The  same  feelings  that  led  him  to  luxuriate  in  the 
descriptions  of  the  poet  made  him  regard  ancient 
edifices  with  a  peculiar  veneration.  When  living 
with  his  father  he  was  accustomed  to  take  long 
walks  into  the  country  to  view  storied  castles  or 
crumbling  towers,  or  any  other  object  of  interest,  in 
company  with  his  schoolfellows,  over  whom,  by  the 
lirnmess  of  his  understanding  and  the  strength  of  his 
diaractcr,  he  acquired  great  influence,  long  before 
there  appeared  the  slightest  probability  ci  his  taking 
so  high  a  place  in  the  world  of  letters  as  that  which 
he  so  nobly  won  and  gloriously  occupies.  It  has 
been  well  said  that,  in  such  expeditions,  "He  peo- 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  WAl.TER  SCOTT.  21 

pled  his  haunts  with  their  ancient  heroes.  His  im- 
flpination  created  a  present  out  of  the  shadowy  past, 
and  in  this  enchanting  but  fictitious  world,  he  hved, 
moved  and  had  his  being." 

Recalled  from  his  pleasant  retreat  on  the  banks  of 
the  Tweed,  very  much  to  his  regret,  as  may  be  con- 
ceived, Scott  returned  to  Edinburgh,  and  was  sent  to 
college,  at  which,  however,  he  gave  no  indications 
of  such  talents  as  were  likely  to  conduct  him  to  ex- 
traordinary greatness.  Greek,  especially,  he  never 
would  learn ;  but,  in  after  life,  much  repented  his 
neglect  of  it.  Again  he  fell  ill,  and  went  once  more 
to  Kelso,  where  he  forswore  Latin,  forgot  the  little 
Greek  he  had  acquired,  but  read  every  thing  that 
came  in  his  way  and  was  capable  of  amusing. 

In  1785  he  entered  upon  the  ordinary  apprentice- 
ship of  five  years  in  the  office  of  his  father,  whose 
chief  ambition  was  to  see  his  son  "  a  well-employed 
lawj^er."  He  applied  himself  to  his  new  duties  with 
an  industry,  stimulated  partly  by  a  sincere  wish  to 
please  his  parents,  and  partly  by  an  anxious  desire 
to  secure  the  fees,  without  which  he  could  not  con- 
veniently have  purchased  such  books  as  the  bent  of 
his  mind  led  him  so  eagerly  to  covet,  and  so  highly 
to  prize.  He  acknowledges,  indeed,  that  he  was  in 
the  habit  of  keeping  romances  and  other  books  in  his 
desk  to  be  read  by  snatches  as  an  opportunity  oc- 
curred ;  but  for  this  it  is  impossible  very  highly  to 
censure  him,  as  it  is,  no  doubt,  largely  practiced  by 


ZZ  POETS. 

many  who  hnve  no  such  excuse  as  the  man  destined 
to  bestow  on  the  land  of  his  birth  an  imperishable 
name,  and  to  fill  the  world  with  his  renown.  He 
confesses  to  having  disliked  the  drudgery  and  detested 
the  confinement ;  and,  no  doubt,  when  copying  an 
hundred  and  twenty  pages  a  day,  without  food  or 
rest,  his  fancy  must  often  have  strayed  to  the  en- 
chanting spot  where  the  Tweed  and  Teviot  form  a 
junction,  or  to  the  well-loved  groves  of  Mertoun,  and 
the  dilapidated  peel  of  Ercildoune — scenes  early  and 
indelibly  stamped  on  the  tablets  of  his  heart,  ren- 
dered famous  by  his  pen,  and  the  mention  of  which 
to  the  last  stirred  his  finest  sympathies. 

At  this  period  he  formed  a  romantic  and  fancifu^ 
attachment,  the  memory  of  which  is  said  to  have 
haunted  him  in  maturer  years.  The  object  of  it  was 
II  young  lady  highly  connected,  and  so  well  provided 
for  in  point  of  fortune,  that  there  was  little  chance 
of  her  father's  pride  being  bowed  to  consent  to  her 
marriage  with  the  young  student  of  law,  though  the 
latter  for  years  nourished  the  hope  of  an  ultimate 
union.  She  was  afterward  married  to  a  gentleman 
of  wealth  and  character ;  but  so  strong  was  the  im- 
pression of  this  dream,  that  it  furnished  heroines, 
gentle,  graceful,  and  attractive,  for  some  of  his  most 
interesting  and  life-like  works  of  fiction.  Meantime, 
m  the  second  year  of  his  apprenticeship,  he  had  been 
Eeverely  aflectcd  by  the  breaking  of  a  blood-vessel, 
ftnd.  being  confnicd  to  bed,  amused  himself  with  his 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  WALTER  SCOTT.  »3 

favorite  books,  illustrating  the  battles  and  sieges  of 
which  he  read  with  chess-men,  shells,  and  pebbles, 
arranged  in  such  a  manner  as  to  represent  tho 
hostile  armies.  He  had  also  mirrors  so  placed  in  his 
room  as  to  enable  him  to  watch  the  troops  march 
to  and  from  their  exercise  in  the  neighboring  mead 
ows.  It  was  about  this  time  that  he  met,  at  the 
house  of  a  friend,  the  poet  Burns,  then  being  lion 
ized  in  the  Scottish  capital,  who,  for  some  informa- 
tion in  regard  to  a  quotation  on  a  print,  rewarded 
him  with  a  kind  look,  and  the  cherished  words, 
"  You'll  be  a  man  yet,  sir  !"  It  would  be  interest- 
ing to  know  what  influence  words  so  full  of  meaning 
and  encouragement  from  the  bard  of  the  people  had 
on  the  future  cf  his  immortal  successor. 

About  1790,  not  much  relishing  that  branch  of  the 
legal  profession  to  which  his  father  belonged,  Scott 
resolved,  much  to  the  old  attorney's  satisfaction,  to 
qualify  for  the  Scottish  bar.  In  July,  1792,  he 
assumed  the  gown  ;  but  as  he  had  already  a  eollec- 
liou  of  curious  old  books,  rare  coins,  Highland  clay- 
mores, with  all  sorts  of  antiquities  within  his  reach, 
and  was,  in  less  than  three  months  after  being  called 
to  the  bar,  exploring  the  Border  dales  in  search  of 
ballads,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  think  that  his  heart 
f^ould  ever  have  been  earnestly  in  his  professional 
pursuits.  At  all  events,  it  is  certain  that  if  he  made 
efforts,  they  were  not,  in  the  highest  degree,  success- 
ful.    However,  he  was  appointed  Sher'fT  of  Selkirk- 


24  POETS. 

shire,  an  office  which  appears  to  have  been  particu* 
larly  acceptable,  and  brought  him  to  the  places 
noted  as  the  scenes  of  contests  on  which  his  works 
liave  conferred  an  enduring  fame.  His  hterary  pro- 
ductions, up  to  this  time,  had  failed  to  attract  that 
attention  which  they  deserved ;  but  the  time  wag  fast 
approaching  when  his  genms  was  to  burst  forth  in  all 
its  brightness.  In  1802  he  gave  to  the  world  the 
Border  Ballads,  which  at  once  excited  public  interest, 
and  gave  him  a  standing  as  a  man  of  letters.  Cir- 
cumstances led  him  to  write  "The  Lay  of  the  Last 
Minstrel,"'  which,  in  1805,  placed  him  in  the  first 
rank  of  original  poets,  as  it  well  might.  Three  years 
after  came  "  Marmion,"  followed  by  "  The  Lady  of 
the  Lake."  Then,  a  new  luminary  arising  to  attract 
all  eyes,  Scott  struck  into  another  path.  The  suc- 
cess of  "  Waverley"  vindicated  his  prescience,  and 
encouraged  him  to  go  on.  He  poured  the  va.st  and 
hoarded  treasures  of  his  great  mind  and  his  glowing 
imagination  into  the  heart  of  Christendom.  Deeply 
attached,  as  he  undoubtedly  was,  to  his  native  soil,  it 
was  not  on  it  alone  that  ho  accomplished  his  splendid 
triumphs.  In  treating  of  England  and  France  he  was 
equally  successful,  and  a  wondering  w^orld  beheld  a 
true  picture  of  the  ancient  warriors,  and  manners  and 
customs  of  the  East  held  up  to  their  view. 

In  1820  Scott  was  created  a  baronet.  Immense 
and  unprecedented  sums  were  produced  by  his  writ 
ings,  and  up  to    1825   no   prosperity  was    like    hi* 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  WALTER  SCOTT.  2c 

Then  came  reverses,  wliicli  gave  the  world  a  Lnowl- 
edge  of  the  authorship  of  the  magical  works  they 
had  been  perusing,  and  himself  an  opportunity  of 
proving  all  the  ardor  of  his  heroic  soul,  and  the 
rcpources  of  his  great  genius.  Throughout  life  lie 
was  actuated  by  a  strong  sense  of  duty;  and  never 
was  it  more  resolutely  exhibited  than  in  his  days  of 
darkness.  He  was  also  animated  by  another  feeling, 
scarcely  less  powerful  with  him — a  sympathy  with 
the  past,  so  peculiar  that  few  can  understand  it,  and 
which  many  have  not  hesitated  to  condemn.  People 
will,  of  course,  look  upon  such  matters  with  very 
different  eyes;  but  though  it  may  appear  strange 
that  a  man  of  supreme  intellect,  at  a  time  "  when 
princes  bowed  to  his  name,  and  nations  thrilled  at  it," 
should  have  felt  excessive  pride  in  his  remote  ances- 
tors having  driven  the  beeves  of  the  English  side,  and 
pathetically  lamented  the  impossibility  of  transporting 
haystacks  over  the  Border,  or  in  his  immediate  pro- 
genitors having  ridden  tall,  bony  steeds,  and  coursed 
with  lean  grayhounds  ;  the  fact  really  is,  that  it  was 
Scott's  feeling  on  this  point,  above  all  others,  which, 
gradually  extending  to  the  whole  society  of  past  ages. 
Drought  forth  his  most  famous  works,  raised  his 
"romance  in  stone  and  lime,"  made  him  the  friend 
and  favorite  of  the  people  among  whom  he  dwelt, 
prevented  him  from  being  unduly  elated  by  the 
applause  of  the  "  great  vulgar,"  and  was  the  causa 
of  his  ieavin<?r  a  name  which  is  seldom  uttered  Avith- 


26  POETS. 

out  admiration  and  respect.  And  those  who  speak  of 
his  pride  as  a  weakness  ought  well  to  consider  wheth 
er  in  reality  it  was  not  his  strength  ;  whether,  if  it  had 
not  existed,  they  would  ever  have  reveled  in  those 
fail  fields  of  old  romance  which  he  has  thrown  open  to 
all  future  generations.  He  died  at  Abbotsford  on  the 
21st  of  September,  1832,  and  was  buried  in  Dryburgh 
Abbey,  a  fitting  resting-place  for  the  mortal  remains 
of  "  the  last  and  greatest  of  the  Border  Minstrels." 


BOYHOOD  OF  POPE. 

Among  the  names  which  are  linked  with  the  lan- 
guage, and  throw  a  lustre  over  the  literature,  of 
England,  that  of  Pope  is  one  of  the  foremost.  From 
the  nature  of  some  of  his  works,  he  is  often  the  first 
distinguished  poet  of  his  country  to  whom  we  are 
introduced  on  the  threshold  of  life  ;  and  many  of  his 
harmonious  passages  frequently  charm  and  soothe  us 
in  the  last  years  of  our  existence.  In  his  own  day, 
rival  parties  in  the  state  strove  to  do  him  honor,  and 
lie  enjoyed  the  friendship  of  the  greatest  and  most 
celebrated  men  of  whom  the  land  boasted  ;  in  ours, 
♦  ho  most  brilliant  of  his  successors  has  bestowed  upon 
him  the  warmest  admiration  and  the  highest  praise. 

The  social  position  of  Pope's  parents  is  a  subject 
which  has  been  vailed  in  a  strange  mystery.  Accord- 
ing to  his  own  authority,  "  of  gentle  blood  each  parent 


BOYHOOD  OF  POPE.  27 

Bpruiig,"  his  father  being  of  a  gentleman'B  family  in 
Oxfordshire,  of  which  the  Earl  of  Downe  was  the 
head  ;  and  his  mother  a  daughter  of  Mr.  Turner  of 
Vork.  The  former  is  variously  stated  to  have  followed 
the  occupation  of  a  mechanic,  a  hatter,  and  a  farmer  ; 
but  the  most  probable  account  ajipears  to  be  that  of 
his  having  been  a  rich  linen-draper  in  the  Strand. 
However,  the  matter  is,  all  things  considered,  quite 
unimportant,  it  being  certaiii  that,  as  the  fame  of  the 
friend  of  St.  John,  and  the  idol  of  Byron,  could  have 
derived  no  additional  splendor  from  the  high  birth,  so 
no  humility  in  his  origin  could  have  detracted  from 
its  radiance.  His  genius  was  a  charter  of  nobility, 
surer  than  any  that  could  have  accompanied  the 
blood  of  Tyrone  ;  and  his  own  pen,  sparkling  with 
wit  and  satire,  did  for  him  more  than  aught  that 
heralds  could  have  accomplished. 

Alexander  Pope  was  born  in  London,  on  the  22d 
May,  1 GS8,  and  to  Lombard-street  has  been  assigned 
the  honor  of  being  his  birthplace.  As  au  infant  he 
was  considered  very  beautiful ;  but,  from  the  first, 
was  remarkable  for  a  fragile  and  delicate  frame, 
which  was  his  misfortune  to  the  last,  and  a  sweet 
and  gentle  disposition,  which  can  not  certainly  bo 
said  to  have  endured  so  long.  His  bodily  weakness 
continued  through  life,  and  obliged  him  to  \vear  stays 
for  support,  but  no  trace  of  excessive  amiability  ap- 
pears in  any  of  his  writings,  no  matter  whether  they 
were  produced  in  youth  or  manhood. 


M  POETS 

Pope,  whose  voice  was  so  pleasing  iu  infancy  that 
he  was  called,  ia  fondness,  "  the  little  nightingale," 
first  learned  to  read  in  his  father's  house,  M'ith  the 
assistance  of  an  aunt,  and  speedily  becoming  a  lover 
of  hooks,  learned  to  write  by  imitating  print,  a  style 
of  penmanship  in  which  he  ever  afterward  greatl) 
excelled.  His  father  and  mother  heing  both  Roman 
Catholics,  he  was,  at  eight,  placed  in  charge  of  a 
priest,  in  Ilampshire,  who  taught  him  the  rudiments 
of  Greek  and  Latin  together  ;  and,  perhaps,  in  seek- 
ing to  confirm  him  in  his  rehgious  views,  instilled 
into  his  young  mind  the  bitterness  which  afterward 
displayed  itself  with  an  cflect  so  perceptible.  Hi 
was  also  initiated  into  poetry,  by  perusing  translations 
of  the  Greek  and  Latin  poets,  which,  probably,  he 
even  then  conceived  an  ambitious  wish  to  rival  and 
outdo.  Having  benefited  much  from  this  priest'? 
instruction,  and  given  the  reverend  father  no  small 
satisfaction,  he  was  removed  to  a  school  at  Twyfbrd, 
near  Winchester,  where  he  complains  of  having  lost 
much  of  his  former  learning.  Nevertheless,  he  began 
to  show  that  satire  was  his  weapon,  and  mercilessly 
lampooned  one  of  the  tutors.  From  Twyford,  he  was 
gent  to  a  school  near  Hyde  Park  Corner,  London. 
While  there  he  sometimes  strolled  to  the  theatre, 
where  he  was  so  captivated  with  the  performance, 
that  he  prepared  a  play  from  Ogilby's  "  Illiad,"  inter- 
fusing it  with  some  verses  of  his  own,  and  had  it 
icted   by  his  schoolfellows.     He  likewise  began   to 


BOYHOOD  OF  POPE.  29 

study  the  English  poets,  and  considering  Dryden  as 
a  model  to  be  pondered  and  imitated,  he  was  soon 
inspired  with  such  an  admiration  of  his  talents,  that 
he  persuaded  some  friend  to  take  him  to  the  cofTee- 
house  which  Dryden  frequented,  in  order  that  he 
might  see  the  wonderful  man  with  his  own  eyes. 
Who  can  doubt  the  effects  produced  by  the  sight  of 
so  eminent  a  poet  on  the  boy  who  "  lisped  in  num- 
bers?" In  fact,  they  soon  showed  themselves  in  the 
course  he  pursued. 

While  Pope  was  at  school,  his  father  having  real- 
ized a  fortune  of  £20,000,  retired  from  business, 
to  enjoy  dignified  leisure  for  the  rest  of  his  daya 
at  Binficld,  in  Windsor  Forest,  whither  the  youthful 
poet,  who  had  already  gazed  rapturously  at  Dryden, 
was  summoned,  at  the  age  of  twelve,  to  be  placed, 
in  so  far  as  education  was  concerned,  under  another 
Pvomish  priest.  With  him  Pope  achieved  so  very 
little  progress  that,  with  the  view  of  making  himself 
such  a  poet  as  Nature  had  intended  him  to  be,  he 
Etruck  out  for  himself  a  plan  of  study,  to  which  he 
resolutely  adhered,  and  with  what  success  his  works 
furnish  the  most  conclusive  proof  His  father  for- 
tunately concurred  in  the  aim  and  object,  proposed 
Bubjects,  and  albeit  knowing,  according  to  the  descrip 
tion  of  the  poet — 

"  No  schoolman's  suLUc  art, 
No  language,  but  the  language  of  the  heart," 

is  reported  to  have  criticised  the  productions,  and  had 


JO  POETS 

Ihem  corrected  to  his  satisfaction  Thus  Pope's  time 
was  wholly  spent  in  reading  and  writing.  His  "  Oda 
on  Solitude"  had  already  been  composed,  and  at 
fourteen  he  made  a  translation  of  the  first  book  of  the 
"  Thebais,"  which,  being  afterward  published,  proved 
its  author  to  possess  no  slight  knowledge  of  the  Latin 
tongue.  Tempted  by  the  success  ofDryden's"  Fables," 
then  not  long  given  to  the  world,  he  tried  his  skill 
in  putting  portions  of  Chaucer  into  modern  English 
At  fourteen  he  wrote  his  poem  on  "  Silence,"  in  im- 
itation of  Rochester's  "Nothing,"  and  exhibited  one 
of  those  singular  instances  of  a  young  man  having 
considerable  knowledge  of  men  and  afl'airs,  without 
having  had  any  commerce  with  the  world.  Anxious, 
however,  to  confirm  and  extend  his  information,  ho, 
next  year,  went  for  a  time  to  London,  where  he 
learned  French  and  Italian,  and  no  doubt  added 
much  to  his  experience  of  persons  and  things.  Re- 
turning to  Binfield,  he  devoted  himself  to  poetry, 
tried  all  styles,  succeeded  to  his  heart's  content,  and 
came  to  think  himself,  "  the  greatest  genius  that 
ever  was."  Though  not  far  wrong  in  his  estimate, 
the  verses  that  had  led  him  to  form  it  were  con- 
demned by  his  maturcr  judgment,  and  destroyed  ; 
yet,  perhaps,  they  deserved  a  better  fate.  His  read- 
ing hitherto  had  been  extensive  and  varied,  but  it  is 
to  be  regretted  that  no  account  of  his  favorite  authorg 
has  been  lianded  down  to  postcritj'. 

At  the  age  of  sixteen,  Pope  had  the  good  fortune 


BOYHOOD  OF  POl'E.  3\ 

to  be  introduced  to,  and  appreciated  by  Sir  William 
Trumbull,  who  had  been  embassador  at  Constanti- 
nople. The  veteran  statesman  retired  from  the  carea 
and  toils  of  public  life  to  reside  near  Binfield,  and 
Pope's  conversation  so  pleased  him,  that  their  ac- 
quaintance ripened  into  intimacy  and  friendship. 
Doubtless  from  him  the  young  poet  learned  much 
that  he  could  hardly  have  acquired  from  an  inter- 
course with  the  ordinary  inhabitants  of  Windsor 
Porest,  and  was  sufficiently  acute  and  sagacious  to 
perceive  and  comprehend  the  advantage  of  familiar 
intercourse  and  frank  communication  with  a  man  of 
long  experience  and  considerable  distinction. 

Being  now  fairly  launched  on  the  sea  of  letters, 
Pope  wrote  his  "  Pastorals."  They  were  not  pub- 
lished till  five  years  after,  but  shown  to  the  poets 
and  critics,  and  highly  applauded.  Before  they  were 
given  to  the  world  their  author  had  learned  to  speak 
of  critics  with  contempt.  At  seventeen  he  had 
formed  the  acquaintance,  felt  proud  of  the  confidence, 
and  incurred  the  wrath  of  Wycherly.  Engaging  in 
a  hand-to-hand  contest  with  the  aged  scribbler,  he 
signally  defeated  him.  Pope,  however,  always  re- 
garded Wycherly  with  feelings  of  kindness,  and  paid 
him  a  visit  shortly  before  his  death.  Another  of 
his  early  friends,  Mr.  Cromwell,  was  in  the  habit 
of  sending  attempts  in  prose  and  rhyme  for  Pope's 
perusal,  and  the  latter  was  by  no  means  sparing  of 
such   remarks  as  were    unwelcome.      Their   corre- 


52  POETS. 

By./indence,  which  firtt  taught  the  world  Pope's  epi& 
tolary  powers,  was  afterward  sold  to  Curl,  the  book* 
seller,  and  inserted  in  a  volume  of  his  "Miscellanies." 

Having  declared  himself  a  poet.  Pope  frequented 
Will's  Coffee-house,  where  Dryden  had  formerly  pre- 
sided, and  where  the  wits  were  still  in  the  habit  of 
assembling. 

"  During  this  period  of  his  life,"  says  Dr.  Johnson, 
"  he  was  indefatigably  diligent  and  insatiably  curious ; 
wanting  health  for  violent,  and  money  for  expensive 
pleasures,  and  having  excited  within  himself  very 
strong  desires  of  intellectual  eminence,  he  spent  much 
of  his  time  over  his  books  ;  but  he  read  only  to  store 
his  mind  with  facts  and  images,  seizing  all  that  his 
authors  presented  with  undistinguishing  voracity, 
and  with  an  appetite  for  knowledge  too  eager  to  be 
nice.  In  a  mind  like  his,  however,  all  the  faculties 
were  at  once  involuntarily  improving.  Judgment 
is  forced  upon  us  by  experience.  lie  that  reads 
many  books  must  compare  one  opinion  and  one  style 
with  another ;  and  when  he  compares,  must  dis- 
tinguish, reject,  and  prefer.  But  the  account  given 
by  himself  of  his  studies  was,  that  from  fourteen  to 
twenty  he  read  only  for  amusement ;  from  twenty  to 
twenty-seven,  for  improvement  and  instruction  ;  that 
in  the  first  part  of  this  time  he  desired  only  to  know, 
and  in  the  second  he  endeavored  to  judge." 

He  was  ambitious  of  excelling  in  painting  as  well 
as  poetry,  and  with  this  view  took  lessons  in  the  art. 


BOYHOOD  OF  POPE.  « 

A  picture  of  Betterton,  drawn  by  him.,  afterward 
passed  into  the  possession  of  his  illustrious  friend  Lord 
Mansfield  ;  but  his  near-sightedness  was  so  eflectual 
%  bar  to  the  achievement  of  any  thing  like  success, 
tliat  he  applied  himself  with  renewed  vigor  to  hia 
true  calling,  and  had  the  "  Pastorals"  printed. 

In  1709  Pope,  then  in  his  twenty-first  year,  wrote 
the  "Essay  on  Criticism,"  "which,"  says  Dr.  John- 
son, "  displays  such  extent  of  comprehension,  such 
nicety  of  distinction,  such  acquaintance  with  man- 
kind, and  such  knowledge  both  of  ancient  and  modern 
learning,  as  are  not  often  attained  by  the  maturest 
age  and  the  longest  experience." 

It  was  published  two  years  latei,  and  being  warmly 
praised  by  Addison  in  the  "  Spectator,"  brought  upon 
its  young  author  the  thunder  of  the  grumbling  Den- 
nis; but  Pope  was  now  twenty-three,  and  removed 
by  his  fame  far  above  the  reach  of  such  assailants 
One  after  one  his  works  issued  from  the  press,  pre- 
senting every  variety  of  style,  "  from  grave  to  gay, 
from  lively  to  severe."  Success  did  not  diminish  his 
diligence,  which,  on  the  contrary,  was  doubled  there- 
by, and  plainly  written  in  his  laboi'ious  translations 
of  Homer's  "  Iliad"  and  "  Odyssey."  The  persever- 
ance he  displayed  in  his  studies,  the  determination 
he  showed  to  arrive  at  literary  eminence,  and  the 
labor  which,  in  spite  of  bodily  infirmity,  he  under- 
went for  that  purpose,  are  subjects  which  should 
occupy  the  attention  and  quicken  the  spirit  of  tho 

c 


J4  POETS. 

youth  who  fbels  the  promptings  of  genius  and  llie 
desire  of  distinction. 

Doubtless  his  faults,  which  perhaps  arose  in  some 
measure  from  his  bodily  sufierings,  were  great ;  and 
his  religious  character  lies  under  grave  charges. 
But  let  those  who  strive  to  emulate  his  resolution, 
energy,  and  industry,  learn  amiability  and  Christian 
charity  from  others.     Let  them — 

"  Turn  o'er  the  leaf  and  cliuse  another  tale ; 
For  they  shall  find  enough 
Of  storial  thmg  that  toucheth  gentilesse, 
And  eke  morality  and  holiness." 

As  has  been  stated.  Pope's  personal  debility  had 
during  his  whole  life,  been  great  and  grievous.  To- 
ward its  close,  his  struggles  with  disease  became 
well-nigh  intolerable.  On  the  30th  of  May,  1714, 
after  the  last  consolations  of  his  church,  and  amid 
the  tears  of  England's  most  gifted  peer,  he  died  at 
Twickenham,  and  was  laid  at  rest  by  the  side  of  his 
father.  A  monument  was  erected  to  his  memory  ; 
but  his  truest  memorial  is  to  be  found  in  those  works 
which  have  commanded  the  heartfelt  admiration  of 
bome  of  the  most  brilliant  of  his  countrymen,  and 
which  will  probably  last  as  long  as  the  literature  of 
which  they  form  so  interesting  a  part. 


CHAPTER  II 
i^istorians. 


BOYHOOD  OF  GIBBON. 

Among  "  the  immortals  of  literature,"  Gibbon  oo« 
cupies  a  very  high  and  conspicuous  position  ;  and  hia 
fame  rests  on  such  a  basis,  that  it  must  endure  as 
long  as  the  noble  language  in  which  his  mighty  work 
is  written.  It  is  interesting  to  know  that,  in  early 
youth,  his  genius  was  engaged  in  the  contemplation 
of  that  great  subject  on  which  its  finest  energies 
were  exerted  almost  to  the  last  years  of  his  life,  and 
which  is  now  indissolubly  associated  with  his  name. 
The  ancestors  of  this  illustrious  man  were  among 
"  the  gallant  squires  of  Kent"  as  early  as  the  four- 
teenth century  ;  and  one  of  them  was  king's  archi- 
tect about  that  period ;  but  the  great  historian  be 
longed  to  a  younger  branch  of  the  family,  the  mem- 
bers of  which  had  been  so  successful  as  merchants  in 
the  city  of  London,  that  his  grandfather  had  more 
than  a  hundred  thousand  pounds  to  lose  as  a  director 
of  the  South  Sea  Company.     However,  he  subse. 


56  HISTORIANS. 

quently  contrived,  by  commercial  gains,  to  retrieve 
his  losses  in  that  calamitous  enterprise,  and  was  thus 
enabled  to  leave  a  handsome  fortune  to  his  son,  who 
sat  in  Parliament  as  member  for  Southampton,  and 
married  the  daughter  of  a  London  merchant  v/ho 
resided  at  Putney. 

At  that  village  Edward  Gibbon  was  born,  on  the 
27th  of  April,  1737.  His  infancy  was  so  exceeding- 
ly delicate,  that  he  was  with  difficulty  kept  alive  in 
those  years  when  the  existence  of  the  most  vigorous 
hangs  by  so  slender  a  thread.  Indeed,  it  seems  to 
have  only  been  by  the  gentle  and  incessant  care  of 
his  maternal  aunt  that  he  weathered  the  storms  that 
beset  his  childhood  ;  and  he  ever  entertained  for  her 
that  warm  aflection  which  her  tender  vigilance  well 
deserved. 

At  the  age  of  seven  he  was  intrusted  for  instruc- 
tion to  a  poor  Cumberland  curate,  the  author  of 
some  popular  works  ;  and  two  years  after  he  was 
sent  to  a  private  academy  at  Kingston-on-Thames. 
At  this  time  his  mother  died,  and  her  loss  was  so 
keenly  and  severely  felt  by  her  husband  that  he  left 
Putney,  and  went,  for  a  change  of  scene,  to  his  es- 
tates near  Bcriton,  in  Hampshire.  Subsequently  he 
consoled  himself  with  a  second  wife,  a  woman  of 
amiable  disposition  and  excellent  sense,  between 
whom  and  her  step-son  grew  up  a  kind  and  steady 
friendship,  which  lasted  throughout  the  life  of  tho 
latter.      Soon  after  his  surviving  parent's  removal  to 


BOYHOOD  OF  GIBBON.  37 

llampsfhiie,  liis  maternal  grandfather  became  Lank* 
rupt,  and  his  aunt  was  compelled  to  keep  a  boarding- 
house  at  Westminster  School,  whither  she  carried 
her  nephew,  who  tells  us  that,  in  the  course  of  two 
years,  he  "  painfully  ascended  to  the  third  form." 
But  his  aunt,  who  possessed  considerable  information, 
taste,  and  judgment,  took  great  pains  to  direct  him  to 
proper  books  ;  and  though  his  appetite  was  at  first  a 
little  indiscriminate,  he  soon  began  to  show  unmis- 
takably the  bent  of  his  mind,  by  the  peculiar  ardor 
with  which  he  read  and  studied  books  of  history.  He 
perused  eagerly  the  "  Universal  History,"  as  it  is- 
sued in  volumes  from  the  press,  and  was  fond  of  lux- 
uriating in  the  "  Arabian  Nights,"  which  formed  one 
of  the  chief  topics  of  the  conversation  he  held  with 
Mr.  Fox,  when  that  eminent  man  visited  him  at 
Lausanne,  forty  years  after.  But  his  health  was 
still  so  precarious,  that  it  was  found  necessary  to  re- 
move him  to  Bath,  for  change  of  air,  and  the  benefit 
of  the  waters.  In  175],  happening  to  be  taken  by 
his  father  to  visit  a  gentleman  in  Wiltshire,  he  found 
in  the  library  a  continuation  of  Echard's  "  Roman 
History,"  which  at  once  attracted  his  attention.  On 
returning  to  Bath,  he  procured  Howell's  "History  of 
the  World,"  and  studied  the  Byzantine  period  with 
rapt  attention  and  a  glowing  spirit ;  with  enthusias- 
tic zeal  and  heroic  determination.  Having  passed 
eome  time  at  Winchester,  he  showed,  in  his  fifteenth 
year,  signs  of  being  more  robust  in  health,  and  waa 


38  HISTORIANS. 

placiid  at  Esher,  in  Surrey,  under  llie  father  of  Si; 
Philip  Francis,  better  known  as  the  translator  of 
"  Horace."  Ere  long,  however,  Gibbon's  relations 
discovered  that  the  teacher  did  not  by  any  meana 
perform  his  duty  toward  his  pupil  ;  and  the  embryo 
historian,  being  removed  to  Oxford  in  1702,  was  en- 
tered as  a  gentleman  commoner  at  Magdalen  Col- 
lege, taking  with  him,  according  to  his  own  account, 
a  stock  of  erudition  that  might  have  puzzled  a  doc- 
tor, and  a  degree  of  ignorance  which  a  school-boy 
would  have  been  ashamed  of.  His  fourteen  months' 
residence  at  Oxford  he  describes  as  the  most  unprofit- 
able of  his  whole  life.  He  read  four  plays  of  Terence, 
and  during  the  first  vacation  made  an  attempt  at 
literary  composition,  in  an  essay  on  the  age  of  Socrates, 
afterward  given  to  the  flames.  But  however  small 
the  progress  of  his  studies,  he  was  not  without  a 
certain  unenviable  kind  of  distinction  for  the  irregular 
and  expensive  habits  into  which  he  had  fallen. 

His  departure  from  Oxford  was  hastened  by  his 
conversion  to  the  Romish  faith,  in  consequence  of 
which  he  was  sent  by  his  father  to  Lausanne,  and 
placed  under  a  pious  Calvinist  minister,  who  was 
successful  in  convincing  him  that  the  conclusion  at 
which  he  had  arrived  was  erroneous.  During  the 
next  five  years  Gibbon's  studies  were  guided  by  this 
man  with  so  much  judgment,  that  he  completely 
made  up  for  lost  time.  He  also  entered  into  corre- 
spondence with    several   distinguished    literary   men 


BOYHOOD  OF  GIBBON.  3S 

on  subjects  relating  to  classical  learning,  and  was 
admitted  to  the  society  of  Voltaire,  when  he  heard 
that  renowned  but  erring  man  recite  his  own  verse. 
Moreover,  he  exercised  himself  diligently  in  the  art  of 
composition,  by  translating  and  re-translating  Latin, 
English,  and  French;  the  chief  part  of  his  time 
being  devoted  to  the  examination  and  study  of  the 
great  Latin  authors.  Never,  perhaps,  was  more  la- 
borious exertion  made  by  any  man  to  quahfy  him- 
self for  a  literary  career  of  the  higher  order. 

He  now  formed  a  friendship  with  Deyverdun,  with 
whom  he  was  afterward  associated  in  the  publication 
of  the  "  Memoires  Litteraires  de  la  Grande  Bre- 
tagne."  But  feelings  more  tender,  and  not  seldom 
more  lasting,  even  than  those  of  friendship  now  took 
possession  of  and  enthralled  him.  It  appears  to  be 
the  fate  of  almost  every  great  man  to  be  afflicted, 
during  the  romance  of  boyhood,  with  emotions  of  love 
for  some  fair  specimen  of  the  gentler  sex ;  and  Gib- 
bon did  not  escape  the  general  doom.  The  heroine 
was,  in  the  highest  degree,  worthy  of  the  flame  she 
inspired ;  her  personal  attractions  were  equaled  and 
set  off  by  the  talents  and  virtues  with  which  she  was 
gifted.  She  had  received  from  her  father,  the  pastor 
of  an  obscure,  solitary,  sequestered  village,  a  liberal 
and  learned  education.  Her  proficiency  surpassed  all 
the  expectations  of  her  parents  ;  and,  during  a  short 
visit  to  some  relations  at  Lausanne,  her  Avit,  beauty, 
learning,  and  accomplishments,  were  the  subject  of 


iO  HISTORIANS. 

conversation  and  applause.  "  The  report,"  saya 
Gibbon,  in  his  autobiography,  "  awakened  my  curi- 
osity. I  saw  and  loved.  I  spent  some  happy  daya 
at  Grassy,  in  the  mountains  ot"  Burgundy.  She  list- 
ened to  the  voice  of  truth  and  passion,  and  her  pa- 
rents honorably  encouraged  the  attachment.  But, 
on  my  return  to  England,  I  found  my  father  would 
not  hear  of  this  strange  connection  ;  without  his  con- 
sent, I  was  myself  destitute  and  helpless.  After  a 
painful  struggle,  I  yielded  to  my  fate  ;  I  sighed  as  a 
lover,  but  obeyed  as  a  son." 

They  were  destined  to  meet  again,  however,  and 
under  very  different  circumstances.  The  charming 
and  erudite  young  lady's  father  died,  and,  with  him, 
the  stipend  that  had  maintained  his  frugal  house- 
hold ;  and  she,  retiring  to  Geneva,  supported  herself 
and  her  mother  by  teaching,  without  in  any  respect 
descending  from  the  simple  dignity  that  had  charac- 
terized her.  But  she  was  not  fated  to  remain  in  ob- 
scurity. Her  high  qualities  were  discerned  by  a 
man  who  afterward,  with  her  assistance,  rose  to  one 
of  the  most  exalted  positions  in  Europe.  A  native 
of  Geneva,  he  had,  against  his  own  inclination,  which 
prompted  him  to  the  study  of  politics  and  philosophy, 
settled  in  Paris  as  a  banker's  clerk  ;  and,  by  his 
abilities  and  assiduity,  raised  himself  to  wealth  and 
distinction  in  the  commercial  commmunity.  As  a 
rich  banker  of  Paris  he  wooed  and  won  the  enchant- 
ing damsel      lie  soon  after  became  the  first  minister 


BOYHOOD  OF  GIBBO>'  41 

of  France  ;  and,  when  Gibbon  next  visited  the 
daughter  of  the  humble  mountain  pastor,  he  was  the 
briUiant  historian  of  the  "  Roman  Empire  ;''  she, 
the  Madame  Necker  of  history,  and  the  centre  of 
that  glittering  circle  on  which  the  philosophers,  and 
men  of  letters,  and  wealthy  bankers,  of  Paris,  match- 
ed their  talents,  knowledge,  and  riches  against  the 
high  pride,  the  haughty  prejudices,  and  the  heredi- 
tary associations  of  the  old,  high-spirited,  exclusive 
nobility  of  France. 

On  returning  to  England,  Gibbon  devoted  him- 
self to  studious  reading,  to  the  collection  of  a  library, 
and  to  the  writing  of  an  essay  in  French,  "  On  the 
Study  of  Literature,"  which  did  not  conduce  much 
to  his  fame.  His  literary  leisure  was  now  sadly 
trespassed  upon  by  his  acceptance  of  a  commission 
in  the  Hampshire  Militia,  which  he  held  till  the 
peace  of  1763,  when  he  proceeded  on  a  visit  to 
France  and  Italy.  It  had  long  been  his  cherished 
ambition  to  produce  some  great  historical  work ;  and 
as  he  "sat  musing  among  the  ruins  of  the  Capitol, 
while  the  barefooted  friars  were  singing  vespers  in 
the  temple  of  Jupiter,  the  idea  of  writing  the  decline 
and  fall  of  the  city  first  started  to  his  mind."  It 
was  not,  however,  carried  out  in  haste ;  he  again 
undertook  the  duties  of  a  militia  officer  ;  and  he  tells 
us  that,  though  his  studies  were  thus  interrupted, 
"  the  discipline  and  evolutions  of  a  modern  battle 
gave  him  a  clearer  notion  of  the  phalanx  and  the 


42  HISTORIANS 

/egion,  and  the  captain  of  Hampshire  grenadiers  was 
not  useless  to  the  historian  of  the  'Reman  empire.'" 
In  1774  he  was  returned  to  Parhamentfor  Liskeard, 
and  subsequently  appointed  a  Lord  of  Trade.  At 
length,  in  1776,  his  first  volume  of  the  "Decline 
and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire"  appeared,  and 
straightway  was  seen  "on  every  table,  and  almost 
on  every  toilet."  Each  succeeding  volume  was  re- 
ceived with  much  applause,  mingled  with  fierce  and 
justifiable  denunciations  of  the  religious  views  it  un- 
ibrtunately  countenanced.  His  own  beautiful  ac- 
count of  its  completion  at  Lausanne,  though  hack- 
neyed by  perpetual  quotation,  can  not  properly  be 
omitted.     He  says — 

"It  was  on  the  day,  or  rather  the  night,  of  the 
27th  of  June,  1787,  between  the  hours  of  eleven  and 
■•welve,  that  I  wrote  the  last  lines  of  the  last  page  in 
a  summer-house  in  my  garden.  After  laying  down 
my  pen,  I  took  several  turns  in  a  berceau,  or  cover- 
ed walk  of  acacias,  which  commands  a  prospect  of 
the  city,  the  lake  and  the  mountains.  The  air  was 
temperate,  the  sky  was  serene,  the  silver  orb  of  the 
moon  was  reflected  from  the  waters.  I  will  not 
dissemble  the  first  emotions  of  joy  on  the  recovery  of 
iny  freedom,  and  perhaps  the  establishment  of  my 
fame.  But  my  pride  was  soon  humbled,  and  a  sober 
melancholy  spread  over  my  mind,  by  the  idea  that  i 
had  taken  an  everlasting  leave  of  an  old  and  agreea 
bie  companion,  and  that  whatever  miglit  be  the  fu 


60YH00D  OF  SIR  JAMES  MACKINTOSH  43 

tui-e  fate  of  my  history,  the  hfe  of  the  author  must 
be  short  and  precarious." 

He  survived  for  seven  years  to  enjoy  the  triumph 
of  his  superb  genius,  and  died  on  the  16th  of  Jan- 
uary, 1794. 

That  Gibhon's  errors  in  regard  to  rehgion — the 
less  excusable  in  a  man  of  his  great  intellect — cast 
a  shade,  dark  and  gloomy,  over  the  brilliancy  of  his 
fame,  and  prevent  the  majority  of  his  countrymen 
from  fully  appreciating  his  writings,  can  not  be  de- 
nied ;  but,  as  a  historian,  he  has  left  an  example 
of  great  and  varied  excellences,  extraordinary  in 
dustry  in  research,  fidelity  in  the  statement  of  facts, 
and  judgment  in  vi'eighing  conflicting  authorities, 
and  all  but  unrivaled  clearness  in  the  narration  of 
events. 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  JAMES  MACKINTOSH. 

The  entrance  upon  boyhood  of  Sir  James  Mackin- 
tosh was  not  made  under  circumstances  favorable  to 
the  acquirement  of  the  enormous  amount  of  histori- 
cal learning  by  which  he  was  distinguished ;  noi 
was  he  in  infancy  associated  Avith  persons  likely  to 
lead  his  thoughts  and  inclinations  to  study  and  spec- 
ulation. On  the  contrary,  his  earUest  years  were 
passed  in  a  remote  part  of  the  country — in  glens 


44  HISTORIANS. 

and  fastnesses — into  which  the  frowning"  body  of 
the  Highland  army  had  been  accustomed  to  retire 
for  safety  after  defeat — and  he  had  not  even  the 
benefit  of  a  father's  care  ;  for  his,  who  was  twenty 
four  years  in  the  army,  and  served  in  Germany 
during  the  Seven  Years'  War,  was  always  absent, 
and,  indeed,  had  too  little  respect  for  learning  or  the 
learned  to  have  afforded  any  particular  assistance  or 
encouragement  to  the  pursuits  of  the  boy,  whose 
knowledge  soon  became  the  admiration  of  his  native 
district. 

He  was  born  at  Aldourie,  on  the  banks  of  Loch 
Ness,  near  Inverness,  on  the  24th  of  October,  17G5. 
His  father.  Captain  Mackintosh,  was  the  represent- 
ative of  a  family  that  had  for  two  centuries  possessed 
a  small  Highland  estate.  Soon  after  the  historian's 
birth,  the  Captain  joined  his  regiment  at  Antigua, 
and  continued  with  it  for  eight  or  nine  years  ;  so  that 
his  son  was  reared  with  great  care  and  tenderness  by 
his  mother,  who  resided  at  a  small  house  named 
Clune,  with  his  grandmother,  a  woman  of  extraordi- 
nary mental  powers  and  cultivated  understanding, 
though  bearing  the  hard  sounding  name  of  Mac- 
gillivray. 

This  place,  with  its  wide  and  spreading  lake,  sur- 
rounded with  wooded  rocks,  was  not  unworthy  of 
being  the  scene  of  so  great  a  man's  childhood  ;  and 
its  scenery  made  imjjressions  on  his  memory  which 
were  never  effaced.     The  romantic  path  leading  to 


OOYHOOD  OF  SIR  JAMES  MACKINTOSH  4a 

tilt  cottage,  the  clear  streamlet  by  which  he  walked, 
and  the  turf  seat  on  which  he  rested,  were,  he  wrote 
forty  years  after,  when  under  an  Indian  sky,  more 
frequently  and  fondly  present  to  his  fancy  than  any 
other  scenes  in  nature.  Besides,  his  mother  regarded 
him  with  more  than  the  ordinary  fondness  of  parents  , 
and,  being  an  only  child  in  a  household  of  several 
women,  they  rivaled  each  other  in  their  displays  of 
kindness  and  attention  to  his  comfort.  In  this  way 
the  first  ten  years  of  his  life  passed  without  any 
occurrences  of  consequence. 

In  the  summer  of  1775  he  was  sent  to  a  school  at 
the  small  town  of  Fortrose,  the  master  of  which  was 
a  man  of  some  ability.  One  of  the  ushers,  who  was 
boarded  in  the  same  house  with  Mackintosh,  was 
suspected  of  holding  certain  opinions,  which  the  pious 
and  orthodox  mistress  of  the  house  considered  hereti- 
cal. The  unfortunate  usher  was  soon  shipped  off  to 
die  of  yellow  fever  and  Jamaica  ;  but  the  disputes  to 
which  his  heresy  had  led  produced  in  Mackintosh  a 
spirit  of  inquiry,  which  directed  his  mind  to  many 
subjects  that  occupied  it  during  life.  This  was  very 
much  kept  alive  by  his  visits  to  an  ancient  gentleman, 
Mr.  Mackenzie,  of  Suddie,  whose  favorite  study  of 
genealogy  had  induced  him  gradually  to  interest 
himself  in  history  and  theology. 

This  gentleman's  studies  had  led  him  to  take  a 
particular  interest  in  the  events  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  in  which  his  ancestors  had  played  a  part ; 


40  HISTORIANS. 

and  Mackintosh's  attention  was  thus  directed  to  tne 
history  of  a  period  which,  at  the  time  of  his  death,  "he 
was  engaged  in  illustrating.  He  likewise  read  "booKS 
on  theology,  and  forthwith  hegan  to  argue  on  the 
subject  with  great  boldness.  He  perused,  with  eager- 
ness and  delight,  "  Plutarch's  Lives,"  and  Echard's 
"  E-oman  History  ;"  and  was  led  by  the  latter  into  a 
habit  of  castle-building  in  the  air,  from  which  he 
never  wholly  freed  himself.  At  firpt  he  used  to 
indulge  in  the  pleasing  day-dream  that  he  was 
Emperor  of  Constantinople  ;  and,  as  such,  distributed 
the  different  offices  of  state  among  his  schoolfellows, 
loading  his  favorites  with  rewards  and  honors,  and 
letting  those  whom  he  disliked  feel  the  weight  ol'  his 
imperial  wrath.  In  solitude,  he  used  to  carry  on  a 
series  of  imaginary  political  events,  resuming  and 
continuing  them  from  day  to  day,  and,  no  doubt,  him- 
.self  enacting  a  conspicuous  part  in  all.  Indeed,  from 
his  thirteenth  year  he  took  a  remarkable  interest  in, 
and  exhibited  a  singular  love  of,  politics.  Mr.  Fox 
and  Lord  North  were,  at  that  time,  making  against 
each  other  their  memorable  speeches  on  the  Ameri 
can  War.  Mackintosh's  imagination  was  quite  cap- 
tivated by  the  report  of  them  ;  and,  adopting  the  crv 
of  liberty,  he,  notwithstanding  his  Jacobite  origin, 
became  a  supporter  of  that  party  of  which  he  Avas  in 
after  years  so  distinguished  an  ornament,  both  as 
orator  and  historian.  Having  thus  chosen  his  side, 
he  prevailed  ujjon  t!ie  more  advanced  and  intelligent 


fiOYHOOD  OF  SIR  JAMES  MACKINTOSH.         iU 

A  hifi  companions  to  devote  the  hours  allotted  to  p!ay 
lo  more  serious  matters,  and  to  join  him  in  a  debate 
on  the  political  events  of  the  day,  of  which  they 
obtained  information  from  the  columns  of  a  provin- 
cial newspaper.  This  assembly  they  called  the 
House  of  Commons ;  and  the  master's  desk,  from 
'^vhich  they  harangued,  the  Tribune.  Mackintosh 
was  ever  the  foremost  and  keenest  in  debate.  One 
day  he  would  appear  as  Burk>;,  another  as  Fox,  or 
some  other  leading  member  of  the  Opposition ;  and 
when  no  one  ventured  to  reply  to  him,  he  Avould,  for 
the  sake  of  argument,  change  sides ;  personate  Lord 
North,  and  endeavor  to  combat  what  he  considered 
the  strongest  parts  of  his  own  speech.  At  this  period, 
a  boy  of  his  own  age,  named  Mackenzie,  who  after- 
ward, as  a  major-general,  died  bravely  at  Talavera, 
was  his  sworn  friend  and  comrade.  They  often 
rehearsed,  while  wandering  in  the  fields,  what  they 
were  to  deliver  in  the  mimic  senate ;  and,  as  they 
completely  differed  on  politics,  were  generally  antag- 
onists. But  Mackenzie,  though  a  brave  and  clever 
boy,  had  no  chance  with  the  scion  of  Clanchattan 
in  the  battle  of  debate.  Indeed,  the  oratorical  exhi 
bitions  of  the  latter  were  marvelous  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, and  his  arguments  sufficiently  powerful 
to  have  done  credit  to  many  double  his  age.  Ho 
particularly  excelled  when,  in  the  character  of  Fox. 
he  directed  his  eloquence  against  some  measure  of  tho 
prime  minister.     His  voice,  though  weak,  was  musi- 


18  HISTORIANS 

cal ;  and  his  eflbrts  seem  to  have  much  surprised  and 
dehghtcd  any  j^rown-up  person  who  had  tlie  curiosity 
to  come  and  listen  to  them. 

Ho  always  went,  duiing  the  vacation  times,  to  riig 
grandmothers  house,  where  he  found  hooks  enough 
to  monopolize  his  attention.  His  father  complained 
that  he  would  become  "a  mere  pedant,"  and  sneered 
at  his  partiality  for  books ;  but  Mackintosh's  love  for 
reading  withstood  all  sneers,  and  he  was  constantly 
devouring  the  pages  of  some  author.  He  frequently 
took  his  dinner  Avilh  him,  and  remained  reading  all 
day  in  one  of  those  quiet,  retired  glens,  from  which 
the  chief  of  his  clan  had,  in  other  days,  drawn  faith' 
ful  and  formidable  bands  of  followers.  There,  seated 
in  a  sequestered  nook,  he  fed  his  mind  with  the  writ- 
ings of  Pope  or  Swift.  Pope's  "  Pastorals"  was  the 
first  verse  he  read  ;  and  as  early  as  1777,  he  attempted 
a  pastoral  of  his  own,  on  the  death  of  an  uncle  Avho 
fell  in  battle.  In  1779,  and  the  following  year,  his 
poetic  muse  was  exceedingly  prolific ;  its  highest 
emanation  being  an  epic  poem,  "On  the  Defense  of 
Cyprus,"  of  which  he  had  read  in  Pi-ollin's  "Ancient 
History  ;"  a  book  that  no  doubt  occupied  much  of 
his  attention.  He  also  signalized  his  poetic  prowess 
by  versifying  a  satirical  representation  of  some  of  the 
village  notables,  which  had  been  written  in  prose  on 
a  young  lady  who  had  formerly  treated  him  with 
much  kindness,  and  whose  firm  friend  and  ally  he  con- 
tinued throughout  the  war  to  which  the  composition 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  JAMES  MACKINTOSH.         4D 

gave  rise.  During  the  vacation  one  year,  he  put  the 
friendship  of  the  society  of  Fortrose  to  the  proof,  by 
writing  a  letter  in  a  hand  hke  his  uncle's,  announc- 
ing his  death,  from  wounds  received  in  falling  down 
a  rock,  while  gathering  hazel-nuts.  The  news  of  his 
supposed  untimely  fate  excited  as  much  mourning 
and  as  many  tears  as  he  could  reasonably  have  de- 
fiired  ;  and  he  was,  on  the  whole,  rather  gratified 
than  otherwise  with  the  result  of  his  perilous  experi- 
ment on  the  sincerity  of  his  friends  and  acquaintances. 
In  1779  he  had  to  part  from  his  good  and  aflectionate 
mother,  who  went  to  England  to  join  her  husband, 
then  in  camp  near  Plymouth.  Ere  long  she  died  at 
Gibraltar,  where,  thirty  years  after,  he,  with  grateful 
affection,  erected  a  monument  to  her  memory. 

Death  had  already  deprived  him  of  his  old  school- 
master, who  was  succeeded  in  his  important  functions 
by  the  usher.  This  man,  unlike  his  predecessor,  was 
extremely  good-natured  and  indulgent,  and  allowed 
Mackintosh  to  do  what  he  thought  fit.  He  trusted 
him  to  teach  some  of  the  younger  boys,  and  permitted 
him  to  come  and  go,  read  and  lounge,  just  as  he  pleased. 
It  was  then  that  a  learned  professor  of  Aberdeen, 
being  on  a  visit  to  the  neighborhood,  met  one  morn- 
ing, near  Fortrose,  a  little  boy,  whose  appearance  and 
conversation  very  much  interested  and  astonished 
him.  On  mentioning  the  circumstance,  and  the 
name  of  his  newly-made  acquaintance,  to  the  gentle- 
man at  whose  house  he  was  staying,  his  host  said, 
D 


60  HISTORIANS. 

"  Every  body  knows  that  boy — that  Jamie  Mackiir 
tosh  ;"  for  by  this  familiar  name  the  future  historiaa 
was  already  widely  known  as  a  prodigy  of  learning 
All  his  feelings,  and  the  manner  in  which  he  ex- 
pressed them,  were  considered  remarkable ;  and  an 
aged  lady,  near  his  grandmother's,  described  him  as 
"  a  spontaneous  child."  He  spent  some  part  of  hia 
vacations  with  an  old,  and  somewhat  eccentric  uncle, 
who,  from  fear  of  being  burnt  in  his  house,  only  al- 
lowed a  small  bit  of  candle  for  his  guest  to  go  to  bed 
with ;  but  Mackintosh  managed,  by  bribing  the 
housekeeper,  to  obtain  a  whole  one,  wherewith  to 
indulge  in  solitary  study  during  the  long  and  silent 
night. 

In  1780  he  went  to  college  at  Aberdeen,  where; 
having  brought  with  him  a  collection  of  his  verses, 
he  was  soon  known  as  "  the  poet" — an  appellation 
which  he  seems  to  have  been  anxious  afterward  to 
shake  off.  That  winter  he  commenced  the  study  of 
such  books  as  Warburton's  "  Divine  Legation," 
which,  he  says,  were  very  much  out  of  the  course  of 
boys  any  where,  and  especially  at  Aberdeen.  It 
appears,  however,  to  have  afforded  him  a  pleasure 
of  no  ordinary  kind,  and  to  have  had  a  considerable 
eflect  on  his  mode  of  thinking. 

On  arriving  in  Aberdeen,  he  had  the  good  fortune 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  celebrated  Pvobert 
Hall,  whose  abilities  and  conversation  exercised  .' 
great  influence  on   his  mind ;    and  M'ith  whom,  a 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  JAMES  MACKINTOSH.         55 

tJiey  lived  in  the  same  house,  and  were  both  dispu- 
tatious, he  had  perpetual  controversies.  These  led 
to  their  forming  a  little  debating  society,  where 
Mackintosh  and  Hall  were  generally  pitted  against 
t^ach  other,  and  far  outshone  all  their  contemporaries. 

In  1782  he  fell  violently  in  love  with  a  young 
iady,  whom  he  wooed  in  prose  and  rhyme  till  the 
name  was  mutual.  For  four  years  this  subject  con- 
tinued to  form  his  chief  thoughts,  but  his  ardor  cooled 
when,  in  1784,  he  went  to  Edinburgh,  to  enter  upon 
the  study  of  medicine.  In  his  case,  at  least,  it  could 
not  be  said  that  "  absence  made  the  heart  grow 
fonder,"  but  perhaps  the  head  grew  wiser. 

When  he  had  gone  through  the  enjoined  course  of 
medical  study  he  obtained  his  diploma,  and  repaired 
to  London  in  the  spring  of  1788  ;  but  the  period  was 
one  of  fierce  political  excitement  ;  and  after  contem- 
plating an  appointment  in  Hussia,  and  providing 
himself  with  a  wife,  he  resolved  to  abandon  his  pro- 
fession. He  began  to  write  for  the  press,  and  in 
1791  published  his  "  Vindiciaj  Gallicse,"  in  reply  to 
Mr.  Burke's  "  Reflections  on  the  French  Revolution," 
which  at  once  proved  his  abilities,  and  caused  his 
Hierits  to  be  acknowledged.  Having  been  called  to 
the  bar,  he,  in  1803,  made  his  brilliant  speech  in 
deietise  of  M.  Peltier,  an  emigrant  royalist  of  France, 
who  had  been  indicted  for  a  libel  on  Napoleon,  then 
First  Consul.  Mackintosh  was  immediately  after- 
ward appointed  Recorder  of  Bombay.     In  the  be 


52  HISTORIANS. 

ginning  of  next  year,  after  being  knighted,  he  sailed 
for  India,  where  for  seven  years  he  ably  and  faith- 
fully discharged  the  duties  of  his  office.  On  return 
ing,  he  entered  the  House  of  Commons.  In  1830, 
having  previously  made  several  contributions  to  the 
"  -Edinburgh  Review,"  he  produced  a  popular  "  His- 
tory of  England"  for  the  "  Cabinet  Cyclopa3dia,"  for 
which  he  had  already  written  a  "  Life  of  Sir  Thomas 
More"  and  the  "History  of  Ethical  Philosophy." 
He  was  engaged  in  his  great  work,  the  "  History  of 
the  Revolution  of  1CS8,"  when  he  breathed  his  last, 
somewhat  suddenly,  on  the  30th  of  May,  1832.  In 
another  week  he  was  buried  at  the  parish  church  of 
Hampstead.  His  "  History  of  the  English  Revolu- 
tion" was  subsequently  published,  but,  owing  to  its 
unfinished  state,  it  is  but  an  imperfect  monument  o»" 
the  genius  of  its  gifted  and  accomplished  author. 


CHAPTER  III 
Critic©. 


BOYHOOD  OF  DR.  JOHNSON. 

Johnson's  boyhood  and  youth  were  passed  amid 
severe  struggles  and  hardships  not  easily  endured, 
but,  by  the  exercise  of  the  great  talents  with  which 
he  was  gifted,  he  secured  comfort  and  ease  in  his 
declininf  years.  He  occupies  a  distinguished  place 
among  Englishmen  of  letters,  and  has  been  called 
"  the  brightest  ornament  of  the  eighteenth  century," 
which  may  be  thought  too  high  praise  ;  but  it  is  not 
too  much  to  say  of  him  as  a  critic,  that  during  his 
life  his  influence  among  his  countrymen  was  su- 
preme, and  that  since  his  death,  they  have  regarded 
his  name  with  pride  and  respect.  His  face  and 
figure,  with  all  their  peculiarities,  are  stamped  on 
the  memories  of  intelligent  men,  his  recorded  table- 
talk  affords  them  amusement,  and  his  works  are 
perused  with  profit  and  pleasure.  The  boyhood  of  so 
"roat  a  man  can  not  surely  be  without  its  lesson. 

He  was  born  at  Lichfield,  on  the  18th  of  Sep- 


54  CRITICS. 

tember,  1709.  His  father  was  Michael  Johnson,  a 
native  of  Derbyshire,  of  humble  birth,  who  had 
settled  there  as  a  bookseller;  and  his  mother  be- 
longed to  a  family  of  substantial  yeomanry,  which 
had  for  ages  been  planted  in  the  county  of  Wor- 
cester. Both  parents  were  above  the  common  stamp, 
and  the  influence  of  their  characteristics  can  be  dis- 
tinctly traced  in  their  son's  career.  The  father  was 
a  pretty  fair  Latin  scholar,  and  so  respectable  a 
citizen  as  to  be  made  one  of  the  magistrates  of  the 
town,  though  never  in  prosperous  circumstances.  He 
was  a  zealous  high  Churchman  and  Jacobite,  so  that 
the  sage  was  cradled  and  nurtured  in  those  opinions 
and  prejudices  to  which  he  clung  throughout,  and 
expressed  without  any  particular  regard  or  toleration 
for  the  views  and  feelings  of  others.  His  mother 
was  a  woman  of  strong  sense  and  understanding, 
without  being  very  literate.  She  was  truly  pious, 
however,  and  early  conveyed  to  her  boy  those  devout 
impressions  which,  with  the  exception  of  a  short 
interval,  were  during  his  life  so  apparent  in  his 
words  and  actions.  She  used  to  teach  him  some 
religious  lesson,  and  then  send  him  to  repeat  it  to 
the  man-servant,  in  order  to  have  it  permanently 
rixed  in  his  memory ;  though  there  was  in  reality 
no  occasion  for  any  artificial  aid  for  its  preservation. 
His  memory,  indeed  was  always  most  tenacious,  and 
the  following  instance  of  its  early  power  is  given  by 
the  faithful  and  admiring  Boswell : 


BOYHOOD  OF  DR.  JOHJNbO^.  5J 

"When  he  was  a  child  in  petticoats,  and  had 
learned  to  read,  Mrs.  Johnson  one  morning  put  the 
Common  Prayer-Book  into  his  hands,  pointing  to  the 
Collect  for  the  day,  and  said,  '  Sam,  you  must  get 
this  by  heart.'  She  went  up-stairs,  leaving  him  to 
study  it,  but  by  the  time  she  had  reached  the  second 
floor  she  heard  him  following  her.  '  What's  the 
matter?'  said  she.  'I  can  say  it!'  he  replied,  and 
repeated  it  distinctly,  though  he  could  not  have  read 
it  more  than  twice." 

When  he  was  not  quite  three  years  old,  Dr. 
Sacheverell  visited  Lichfield.  Johnson  insisted  on 
being  taken  to  hear  him,  and,  perched  on  his  father's 
shoulders,  gazed  with  rapture  at  the  well-known 
preacher. 

Being  sorely  afflicted  with  the  king's  evil,  which 
disfigured  a  countenance  said  to  have  been  originally 
pleasing,  and  deprived  him  of  the  use  of  one  e3'e, 
Johnson  Avas,  in  accordance  with  a  superstition  of 
the  age,  carried  to  London  by  his  mother  to  be  touch- 
ed by  the  Queen.  Though  the  touch  was  without 
eflect,  he  seems  to  have  been  extremely  proud  of  it. 
"He  had,"  he  said,  when  asked  if  he  remembered 
Queen  Anne,  "  a  confused,  but  somehow  a  solemn 
recollection  of  a  lady  in  diamonds  and  a  long  black 
hood." 

lie  received  his  first  instruction  in  English  at  a 
dame's  school  in  his  native  town.  One  day  the  serv- 
ant, who  usually  came  to  take  him  home,  being  be- 


56  CRITICS. 

hind  time,  he  set  ofi"  alone,  notwithstanding  his  near- 
sightedness, which  obliged  him  to  stoop  down,  and 
take  a  view  of  the  street  gutter  before  venturing  to 
cross  it.  The  good  dame,  fearing  that  he  might  be 
run  over,  or  that  some  other  accident  might  befall 
him  by  the  way,  followed  at  a  little  distance,  till 
perceived  by  her  youthful  pupil,  who  manifested  "  that 
jealous  independence  of  spirit  and  impetuosity  of  tem- 
per which  never  forsook  him,"  by  a  not  veiy  becoming 
attempt  to  beat  her. 

Having  next  passed  through  the  hands  of  an  Eu 
glish  teacher,  whom  he  used  familiarly  to  talk  of 
as  Tom  Brown,  he  began  Latin,  in  1719,  with  the 
under-master  of  Lichfield  School,  described  by  him 
as  "  very  skillful  in  his  little  way."  Two  years  later 
he  came  under  the  care  of  the  head-master,  whom 
he  accused  of  any  thing  rather  than  sparing  the  rod. 
However,  Johnson  profited  largely  by  his  instruc- 
tion, and  confessed  that  he  should  never  have  acquired 
his  accurate  knowledge  of  Latin  but  for  having  been 
well  whipped.  In  fact,  he  was  ever  strongly  of 
opinion  that  a  little  flogging  was  quite  necessary  for 
a  boy's  improvement  ;  but  he  was  hardly  ever  cor- 
rected at  school  himself,  except  for  talking  and  divert- 
ing other  boys  from  their  lessons.  Doubtless,  he  was 
by  nature,  indolent,  but  not  so  much  so  as  ambitious 
to  excel ;  and  the  latter  feeling  roused  him  to  those 
efibrts  which  laid  the  foundation  of  his  lame.  Ha 
was  almost  disqualified  by  his  defective  sight  from 


BOYHOOD  OF  DR.  JOHNSON.  57 

joining  in  the  ordinary  diversions  of  the  school,  \)ut 
much  given  to  reading.  Fi^omances,  indeed,  formed 
the  chief  part  «f  it,  and  he  retained  his  attachment  to 
them  tliroughout  life.  He  often  regretted  his  devo- 
tion to  them,  attributing  to  it  a  restless  turn  of  mind 
which  prevented  him  from  settling  to  any  regular 
profession  ;  but,  considering  the  height  to  which  in 
spite  of  all  obstacles,  he  worked  his  way,  it  is  impos- 
sible not  to  rejoice  that  he  should  so  have  spent  a 
portion  of  his  time.  It  was  probably  for  the  purpose 
of  indulging  in  the  day-dreams  created  by  them  that 
he  loved  to  saunter  away  the  vacation  hours,  accom- 
panied by  a  friend,  but  talking  generally  to  himself. 
His  memory  was  marvelous  in  its  powers,  and  grasp- 
ed any  thing  presented  to  it  with  a  tenacity  little 
less  than  miraculous.  One  of  his  schoolfellows  in 
after-life  related  that,  on  one  occasion,  having  re- 
cited to  him  eighteen  verses,  he  repeated  them  after 
a  pause  with  a  single  variation,  which  was,  in  real- 
ity, an  improvement.  Thus,  whatever  he  read  was 
added  to  his  knowledge  ;  and  the  effect  was  soon  vis- 
ible in  the  influence  he  possessed  with  his  compan- 
ions, who,  especially  his  favorites,  found  the  value  ot 
his  assistance,  and  were  in  the  habit  of  requiting  it 
by  carrying  him  to  school  in  the  morning.  He  sat 
on  the  back  of  one,  while  two  others  supported  him 
on  each  side.  In  frosty  weather  he  had  a  strange 
fancy  for  being  drawn  along  the  ice  by  a  barefooted 
boy.     This  was  done  by  means  cf  a  ojrd  fastened 


58  CRITICS. 

round  his  body,  which  even  then  was  so  heavy  as  to 
render  the  duty  somewhat  severe. 

After  leaving  Lichfield  School,  and  residing  some 
time  in  the  house  of  his  maternal  uncle,  a  request 
was  made  by  his  father  to  have  him  received  as  a 
scholar  and  assistant  at  Newport  school,  in  Shrop- 
ehire.  This  was  not  acceded  to,  though  the  head- 
master afterward  boasted  that  he  was  nearly  having 
so  great  a  man  for  his  pupil.  On  this  scheme  failing, 
he  was  sent  to  the  school  at  Stourbridge,  in  Worces- 
tershire, without  receiving  so  much  benefit  as  was 
expected,  owing  to  his  not  being  on  the  best  of  terms 
with  the  master.  At  this  place  he  remained  two 
years,  assisting  to  teach  the  younger  boys,  and  then 
returned  home,  where  he  spent  his  time  in  reading, 
without  any  regular  plan  of  study.  He  was  scolded 
by  his  father  for  idleness,  but  in  reality  was  roaming 
at  large  in  classic  realms,  and  storing  his  huge  mind 
from  the  works  of  the  ancient  authors. 

At  length  it  was  determined  that  he  should  go  to 
Oxford,  in  October,  1728,  a  gentleman  of  Shropshire 
promising  aid  in  regard  to  the  expense,  which  his 
father  had  not  the  means  of  defraying.  On  the  eve 
of  departure  his  old  school-mistress  came  to  bid  him 
farewell,  bringing  a  jiresent  of  ginger-bread,  which,  no 
doubt,  he  accepted  in  the  same  spirit  in  which  it  was 
olllred,  and  paying  him  a  compliment,  which  he  ever 
after  held  in  gratefiil  remembrance.  She  said  he 
was  the  best  scholar  she  had  ever  liad  ;  and  Johnson, 


BOYHOOD  OF  DR.  JOHNSON.  59 

who  Iield  the  boy  to  be  the  man  in  miniature,  valued 
the  praise  at  a  very  high  rate. 

He  was  entered  a  commoner  of  Pembroke  College 
on  the  31st  of  October,  his  father  accompanying  him 
to  Oxford,  and  being  at  great  pains  to  have  him  in- 
troduced to  the  person  who  was  to  be  his  tutor.  Old 
Johnson  showed  no  small  pride  in  his  son's  attain- 
ments, and  with  natural  vanity  boasted  to  the  com- 
pany present,  on  the  evening  of  his  arrival,  of  his 
wondrous  learning.  The  young  sage's  appearance 
struck  them  as  odd.  He  sat  silent  till  an  opportunity 
occurred  for  a  quotation,  when  he  struck  in,  and 
gave  some  idea  of  that  extensive  reading  in  which  he 
had  indulged  when  upbraided  by  his  father  for  waste 
of  time. 

Johnson  never  considered  that  he  owed  much  to 
his  tutor's  instruction,  which,  perhaps,  he  did  not 
sufficiently  exert  himself  to  profit  by.  Having  wait- 
ed on  him  the  first  day,  he  staid  away  the  next  four. 
On  the  sixth,  being  asked  why  he  had  not  attended, 
he  gave  as  an  excuse  that  he  had  been  sliding  in 
Christ-Church  Meadow.  He  was  not  aware  at  the 
time,  as  he  afterward  declared,  that  he  had  said  any 
thing  disrespectful  to  his  tutor,  for  whose  personal 
character  he  ever  expressed  great  esteem. 

The  Fifth  of  November  was  at  that  time,  kept 
with  great  pomp  and  solemnity  at  Fsmbroke  College, 
and  the  students  were  required  to  write  something 
on  the  gunpowder  plot.     This  Johnson  neglected  to 


60  CRITICS. 

do,  producing,  by  way  of  apology,  some  verses,  which 
so  pleased  the  tutor,  that  their  author  was  requested 
to  translate  Pope's  "  Messiah"  into  Latin  verse  as  a 
Christmas  exercise.  He  had,  at  school,  given  proofs 
of  his  poetic  talent ;  he  had  also,  while  at  Lichfield, 
written  an  epilogue  for  some  young  ladies  who  had 
proposed  to  act  "  The  Distressed  Mother,"  and  lie 
now  set  himself  to  the  appointed  task.  The  result 
was  cheering.  His  rapidity  and  success  gained  him 
immense  applause,  and  served  much  to  raise  him  iu 
the  opinion  of  his  College  and  the  University. 

While  staying  at  Lichfield,  during  the  vacation  of 
1729,  he  felt  himself  all  but  overpowered  with  that 
peculiar  melancholy  which  haunted  him  to  his  last 
days,  and  made  vigorous  efforts  to  shake  it  off  by 
long  walks  and  other  expedients.  But  as  they  proved 
of  no  avail,  he  put  into  the  hands  of  a  medical  man 
a  statement  of  his  case,  written  in  Latin.  The  phy- 
sician M'as  struck  with  its  research  and  eloquence, 
and  could  not  refrain  from  showing  it  to  his  friends, 
which  so  ofi^ended  Johnson  that  he  never  fully  forgave 
what  he  regarded  as  the  betrayal  of  confidence. 
From  his  ninth  year  he  had  been  somewhat  lax  in 
so  far  as  religion  was  concerned  ;  but  at  Oxford  he 
began  to  consider  the  matter  seriously,  and  ever  after 
was  most  exemplary  in  the  fulfillment  of  his  duties. 
At  College  his  chief  reading  was  Greek,  and  meta- 
physics his  favorite  study.  He  had  a  peculiar  fac- 
ulty of  extracting  the  substantial  and  valuable  por- 


BOYHOOD  OF  DR.  JOHNSON.  61 

tioii  of  any  book,  without  the  labor  of  perusing  it  from 
beginning  to  end,  which  was  all  but  necessary  to  a 
person  of  his  irritable  and  impatient  disposition  acquir- 
ing so  immense  a  fund  of  information  as  that  which 
he  ultimately  possessed  and  made  use  of. 

His  poverty  at  this  period  became  extreme  ;  and  it 
is  related  that,  being  in  the  habit  of  going  to  Christ 
Church  to  obtain  from  a  friend  the  substance  of  some, 
lectures  then  being  delivered,  his  shoes  were  observed 
to  be  so  much  worn,  that  his  feet  appeared  through 
them.  Perceiving  that  this  was  noticed,  he  ceased 
from  coming ;  and  some  of  his  well-wishers,  having 
placed  a  new  pair  at  his  door,  he  manifested  his  proud 
independence  of  spirit  by  indignantly  throwing  them 
away.  He  felt  that  he  was  gifted  in  no  ordinary 
degree,  and  hoped  to  fight  his  way  by  his  literary 
abilities  and  learning.  This  consideration  sustained 
him  in  all  the  privations  which  he  endured  at  Oxford, 
but  it  could  not  supply  the  funds  to  maintain  him 
there ;  and  the  gentleman  to  whose  promises  he  had 
trusted  having  failed  to  make  them  good,  he  was  com- 
pelled, in  the  autumn  of  1731,  from  want  of  means, 
to  cut  short  his  career,  to  leave  the  University  with- 
out a  degree,  and  to  return  to  his  native  place,  with 
hardly  any  prospect  of  making  even  a  decent  liveli- 
hood. In  the  December  of  the  same  year  his  father 
died  insolvent,  and  Johnson's  gloom  deepened  into 
something  like  despair.  Under  these  circumstances 
he  accepted  a  situation  as  usher  in  a  school  at  Mar- 


62  CRITICS. 

ket  Bosworlh,  which  he  retained  only  I'or  a  fev» 
months,  experiencing  great  misery  all  the  time.  H« 
then  went  on  a  visit  to  an  old  schoolfellow  and  towns- 
man, who  had  settled  as  a  surgeon  at  Birmingham 
While  there,  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  Mr 
Warren,  for  whom  he  wrote  his  first  prose  work,  an 
abridgement  and  translation  of  Lobo's  "  Voyage  to 
Abyssinia,"  which  was  published  in  London.  He 
likewise  became  acquainted  with  Mr.  Porter,  whose 
widow  he  married  in  173G,  when  he  opened  a  private 
academy  at  Lichfield,  which  proved  an  unsuccessful 
undertaking.  In  1737,  he  removed  to  London,  and 
at  first  wrote  chiefly  for  the  "  Gentleman's  Maga- 
zine." His  great  works  soon  began  to  appear  and 
arrest  public  attention.  In  time  his  name  became 
famous,  and  it  was  his  happiness  always  to  improve 
as  an  author  as  he  advanced  in  years.  His  fame  as 
a  critic  rests  on  his  "  Lives  of  the  Poets"'  which,  as 
he  himself  stated,  should  not  be  considered  "  as  lives, 
but  critical  prefaces."  His  power  is  most  conspicu- 
ously displayed  in  those  of  Cowley,  Dryden,  Addison, 
and  Pope.  ■ 

In  17G2  his  Majesty  settled  on  him  a  pension  , 
the  degree  of  LL.D.  was  bestowed  on  him  by  Trinit) 
College,  Dublin  ;  and  the  same  distinction  was  after- 
ward conferred  by  his  own  University.  He  died  on 
the  13th  of  December,  1784,  in  his  seventy-fifth  year, 
and  was  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey. 

Johnson  arrived  in  London  at  a  timo  when  th 


BOYHOOD  OF  DR.  JOHNSON.  bJ 

condition  of  men  of  letters  was  at  the  very  worst,  and 
when  he  was  obhged  to  endure  every  species  of  humil- 
iation. The  authors  with  whom  he  then  mixed  lived 
in  a  state  of  the  utmost  wretchedness.  It  is  no  small 
praise  of  him  to  say,  that  in  the  midst  of  poverty  and 
despair  he  struggled  on  manfully,  and  appeared  as 
the  leader  of  another  and  more  fortunate  generation, 
by  whom  he  was  treated  with  the  utmost  respect 
Moreover,  he  reached  eminence  not  by  any  crooked 
paths,  not  by  pandering  to  an  impure  public  taste, 
but  by  intellect  and  abilities,  which  enabled  him  to 
subdue  adverse  fortune  and  bodily  infirmity,  to  intro- 
duce a  healthier  and  more  moral  tone  into  the  litei'a- 
turc  of  Iris  day,  and  to  leave  a  memorable  example  to 
succeeding  aspirants  to  distinction  in  those  fields 
wherein  he  displayed  all  the  force  of  his  great  mind, 
and  achieved  his  splendid  triumphs. 


BOYHOOD  OF  LORD  JEFFREY. 

The  very  distinguished  critic,  Francis  Jeflrey,  was 
first  introduced  to  the  world,  iu  which  he  was  to 
enact  so  conspicuous  and  influential  a  part,  on  the 
23d  of  October,  1773.  His  birthplace  was  Edin- 
burgh where  his  father,  who  had  been  educated  to 
the  law,  held  one  of  the  deputy-clerkships  in  tho 
Court  of  Session,  in  which  the  son  was  destined  to 
preside  as  a  judge. 


64  CRITICS. 

The  interesting  story  of  the  latter  having  been  in 
extreme  peril  of  falling  a  victim  to  a  fire  that  broke 
out  in  his  father's  house  v/hen  he  v^^as  quite  an  infant, 
and  of  his  having  owed  his  safety  from  the  flames 
to  a  slater,  vi'^hose  timely  service  he  aftervv^ard  re- 
quited, in  the  hour  of  need,  by  gratuitous  and  suc- 
cessful professional  exertions,  turns  out  to  be  without 
foundation  in  fact.  Having,  by  the  usual  process, 
learned  his  alphabet  at  home,  Jeflrey  was  sent  to  a 
private  school ;  and  though  a  "  little  tiny  boy,"  was 
remarked  for  his  intelligent  vigor,  even  before  he  had 
doQed  the  petticoats. 

When  eight  years  old  he  was  placed  at  the  rii<i;h 
School  of  the  nothern  capital — the  most  celebrated 
and  time-honored  institution  of  the  kind  in  his  native 
country — where  the  old  and  somewhat  wholesome  sys- 
tem of  flagellation  seems  to  have  been  carried  out  to 
such  an  extent,  as  his  learned  biographer  thinks  the 
criminal  law  would  not  now  tolerate.  There,  for  four 
years,  he  continued  learning  Latin  ;  and  was  noticed 
as  a  little,  anxious,  clever  boy,  who  always  stood 
near  the  top  of  the  class,  and  never  lost  a  place  with- 
out a  becoming  display  of  feeling.  At  the  end  of 
that  time  he  was  passed  on  to  the  rector's  class,  con- 
sisting of  more  than  an  hundred  boys,  and  remained 
there  for  two  years  more  ;  though  without  perform- 
ing any  of  those  miracles  which  not  unfrequently 
mark  the  boyhood  of  brightening  genius.  However, 
the  master  was  one  who  delighted   to  detect  and 


BOYHOOD  OF  ^O^-D  -TrFFREY.  C5 

encourage  youthful  tah  nt ;  and  Jefiiey,  throughout 
life,  held  him  in  grateful  remenribrance.  Though 
reading  was  not,  at  that  date,  a  very  favorite  amuse- 
ment among  the  boys,  Jeffrey,  besides  some  books  of 
travel  and  natural  history,  diligently  perused  Hume's 
'•  History  of  England,"  and  Middleton's  "  Life  of 
Cicero," — no  doubt  with  great  benefit. 

When  he  was  in  his  thirteenth  year  his  mother,  a 
woman  of  maternal  excellence,  and  much  beloved  by 
her  children,  died  while  her  son  was  on  a  visit  to 
some  friends,  about  seventeen,  miles  from  Edinburgh. 
The  news  of  her  dangerous  illness  reached  the  family 
in  which  he  was  staying  too  late  to  admit  of  his  being 
conveyed  home  the  same  night,  and  it  was,  therefore, 
deemed  prudent  to  conceal  the  sad  intelligence  from 
him  till  next  day ;  but,  having  suspected  it  from 
some  cause,  he  set  off  in  the  morning  before  day- 
break, and  walked  all  the  way. 

Shortly  after  this  mournful  event,  which  cast  a 
deep  gloom  over  their  circle,  he  had  one  day  the  ad- 
vantage, which  his  countrymen  prize  so  highly,  of 
looking  with  his  young  eyes  on  that  rustic  bard  of 
VI  horn  Scotland  is,  and  may  well  be  proud.  While 
standing  in  the  High  Street,  staring  at  a  man  whose 
appearance  struck  him  as  uncommon,  a  passer-by 
tapped  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  exclaimed  with 
enthusiasm,  "  Ay,  laddie  I  ye  may  weel  look  at  that 
man.  That's  the  poet  Burns  I"  Jeffrey  never  had 
a  second  opportunity  ;  but,  ere  long,  he  had  an  adven- 


tiG  CRITICS. 

ture  with  a  scarcely  less  celebrated  personage.  This 
was  the  biographer  of  Johnson,  whom  he  had  the 
memorable  distinction  of  assisting  to  carry  to  bed  in 
a  condition  which  may  be  more  decorously  imagined 
than  described.  Next  morning  he  was  rewarded  by 
the  renowned  individual — who  had,  meantime,  been 
informed  of  the  service — clapping  him  patronizingly 
on  the  head,  complimenting  him  on  being  a  very 
promising  lad,  and  adding,  by  way  of  incitement,  "  If 
you  go  on  as  you've  begun,  you  may  live  to  be  a 
Bozzy  yourself  yet  I" 

In  the  beginning  of  the  year  1787  Jeffrey  was  sent 
to  the  College  at  Glasgow,  which  was  preferred  to 
the  other  northern  seats  of  learning  on  account  of  the 
Oxford  exhibitions.  He  remained  there  for  two 
sessions,  displaying,  according  to  a  fellow-student,  a 
degree  of  quickness  which  some  were  inclined  to  call 
by  a  harsher  name,  and  cultivating  a  very  black, 
unseasonable  mustache,  which  covered  the  whole  of 
his  upper  lip,  and  exposed  him  to  the  laughter  and 
raillery  of  his  companions.  Notwithstanding  this 
harmless  vanity,  he  was  by  no  means  deficient  in  the 
spirit  of  defiance,  as  he  proved  by  his  strong  opposi- 
tion to  the  election  of  the  apostle  of  political  economy, 
Adam  Smith,  as  Lord  Rector  of  the  University, 
which  depended  on  the  votes  of  the  professors  and 
students.  People  were,  in  no  small  degree,  surpri-sed 
to  see  a  dark-visaged  lad  in  that  peculiar  state  of  ex- 
citement which  is  so  apt  to  make  us  mistake  friends 


BOYHOOD  OF  LORD  JEFFREY.  6T 

for  foes,  eloquently  haranguing  some  boys  ou  the 
green  against  the  impropriety  of  voting  for  the  learned 
author  of  the  "  Wealth  of  Nations." 

In  the  next  session,  however,  he  exhibited  his 
characteristics  in  a  much  more  brilliant  and  satis- 
factory manner.  In  a  debating  society  he  won  honor 
as  one  of  the  most  successful  speakers — criticism  and 
metaphysics  being  the  principal  subjects  on  which  his 
eloquence  expatiated.  Moreover,  one  of  the  profess- 
ors, being  in  the  habit  of  making  each  of  his  pupils 
write  an  essay,  and  then  delivering  it  into  the  hands 
of  another  to  be  criticised,  gave  Jeffrey  an  opportu- 
nity of  first  exercising  those  remarkable  powers,  in 
after  years  so  terrible  to  many  a  hapless  adventurer 
in  the  fields  of  literature.  On  this  occasion  his 
remarks  were  of  so  merciless  a  nature,  that  the  pro- 
fessor, in  returning  the  essay  to  its  author,  charitably 
muttered  something  deprecatory  of  the  ruthless  sever- 
ity that  had  been  made  use  of  This  year  he  made 
a  most  creditable  figure  in  the  logic  class,  and  was 
considered  the  ablest  student  it  contained.  A  party 
of  the  students,  anxious  for  their  improvement  in 
recitation,  formed  themselves  into  an  elocution  club, 
which  met  every  Monday  evening.  They  even 
aspired  to  a  dramatic  performance,  fixed  upon  a  play, 
and  selected  an  apartment  within  the  College  as  a 
fitting  theatre  ;  but  the  authorities  interfered,  and 
put  a  stop  to  the  scheme,  and  thus  raised  the  bitter 
ire  of  Jeffrey,  who,  in  the  last  page  of  his  "Notes 


ri8  CKITICS 

on  Lectures,"  denounced  their  conduct,  in  taking 
such  a  step,  as  "  the  meanest,  most  ilhberal,  and  des 
picable  I" 

From  this  period  he  exercised  not  only  extra- 
ordinary  dihgence,  but  systematic  regularity,  in  pur 
suing  his  studies  and  cultivating  his  literary  powers 
accompanying  all  his  labors  with  composition  in- 
tended not  for  display,  but  with  a  view  to  that 
self-culture  so  necessary  even  to  men  endowed  with 
the  highest  natural  abilities.  This  laudable  prac- 
tice, which  was  adhered  to  almost  daily,  is  attested 
by  the  multifarious  mass  of  papers  on  every  kind  of 
subject,  which  are  still  preserved,  consisting  of  notes 
of  lectures,  translations,  speeches,  tales,  and  poems ; 
neai'ly  all  the  prose  productions  being  of  a  critical 
character,  and,  as  if  by  way  of  preparation  for  his 
subsequent  high  position,  terminating  with  a  sharp 
and  acute  criticism  on  their  own  defects.  It  was  by 
such  means  that  he  corrected  his  errors  and  blem 
ishes  of  style,  and  brought  to  maturity  that  peculiar 
acumen  afterward  so  forcibly  displayed  in  the  pages 
of  the  "Edinburgh  lleview." 

Of  liis  papers  written  at  Glasgow,  only  four  re- 
main in  existence ;  but  they  are  stated  to  be  won 
derful  performances  for  a  youth  of  his  age.  It  may 
not  be  out  of  place  to  mention  that  he  was  subject 
to  what  he  considered  feelings  of  superstitious  fear, 
to  cure  himself  of  which  he  u.sed  to  walk  at  the 
mystic   hour  of  midnight  round  the   grave-yard  of 


BUVHOOD  OF  LORD  JEFFREY.  PS 

the  ancient  and  venerable  cathedral,  familiarized  by 
ihe  genius  of  Scott  to  all  readers  of  "Rob  Roy." 

In  May,  1789,  he  returned  to  Edinburgh,  whose 
localities,  for  the  next  two  years,  he  only  exchanged 
for  visits  to  a  relation  in  the  county  of  Stirling, 
which  Avere  the  occasion  of  much  delightful  enjoy- 
ment, and  ever  remembered  as  comprising  the  hap- 
piest days  of  his  youth — restless  with  the  fever  of 
eloquence,  recognizing  no  prospect  of  a  vent ;  and 
conscious  of  a  daring  intellect,  which  saw  little  hope 
of  a  career.  But  at  what  he  fondly  calls  the  "dear, 
retired,  adored  little  window"  of  his  garret  in  the 
Lawnmarket,  where  his  father  resided,  he  labored 
assiduously  in  silence,  composed,  created,  and  criticised 
according  to  his  own  desires,  and  prepared  himself 
for  the  arrival  of  that  brighter  day,  which  is  almost 
sure  to  come  to  those  who  are  careful  to  fit  them- 
selves for  the  duties  that  accompany  it. 

In  the  autumn  of  1791  Jeffrey  was  entered  at 
Oxford,  his  father  having  escorted  him  thither.  They 
loitered  and  visited  so  many  places  of  interest  by  the 
way,  that  it  was  a  full  fortnight  before  their  destina- 
tion was  reached.  But  the  rich  south,  which  is  sup- 
posed to  have  so  strong  an  attraction  for  his  country 
men,  seems  to  have  had  no  charms  whatever  for  him. 
Lord  Mansfield  and  others  never  availed  themselves 
of  the  privilege  of  setting  foot  on  their  native  soil 
after  they  had  left  it ;  but  scarcely  had  Jeffrey  sep- 
arated from  his  father  when  he  conceived  a  strong 


70  CRITICS. 

dislike  to  every  thing  and  every  body  about  the  new 
scene  of  his  studies.  More  grateful  to  his  tastes  was 
the  little  garret  in  the  Lawnmarket  of  his  dear  na- 
tive town  than  the  classic  regions  by  the  Isis.  Hia 
letters  to  a  sister  breathe  nothing  but  discontent, 
loneliness,  and  melancholy  ;  and  it  was  with  a  joy, 
which  he  was  far  from  conceahng,  that  he  termin- 
ated his  short  residence  in  June,  1792.  lie  M'as,  it 
would  really  seem,  too  much  of  a  Scotchman  to  rel- 
ish life  elsewhere  than  in  his  native  land  ;  but  he  was 
extremely  ambitious  to  get  rid  of  his  country's  lan- 
guage, and  acquire  "an  English  tongue."  In  this, 
the  partiality  of  his  success  fully  justified  the  remark 
of  the  late  Lord  Holland,  that  though  he  "had  lost 
the  broad  Scotch  at  Oxford,  he  had  only  gained  the 
narrow  English." 

Jeffrey  was  now  nineteen,  and  entertained  serious 
intentions  of  devoting  his  whole  talents  and  energies 
to  literature — poetry  being  the  crutch  on  which  ho 
chiefly  relied.  Even  for  years  after  he  had  been 
admitted  to  the  Scottish  bar,  he  meditated  a  re- 
moval to  London  with  that  view.  However,  in 
1S02,  the  establishment  of  the  "Edinburgh  Ee- 
view"  aflbrded  him  a  proper  stage  for  the  display  of 
his  literary  powers.  He  contributed  no  less  than 
two  hundred  articles  to  this  potent  organ  of  j)ublic 
opinion,  and  continued  its  editor  till  his  election  as 
Dean  of  Faculty,  in  1829 — with  what  tact,  talent, 
and   judgment,    the    influence    it   exercised    during 


BOYHOOD  OF  LORD  JEFFREY.  71 

/hat  long  and  troubled  period  sufficiently  prove. 
His  labors  as  editor  must  have  been  gigaritic,  es- 
pecially when  joined  with  his  professional  pursuits. 

On  the  accession  of  Earl  Grey  to  power,  in  1830, 
Jeffi-ey  became  Lord  Advocate  for  Scotland,  and  in 
1834  was  raised  to  the  bench. 

He  died  in  January,  1850,  in  his  seventy-seventh 
year,  and  was,  by  his  own  desire,  buried  in  the  Dean 
Cemetry,  near  Edinburgh,  on  the  31st  of  that  month. 

The  history  of  his  youthful  career  is  extremely 
valuable,  as  showing  distinctly,  that  study,  diligence, 
and  steady  industry,  are  essential  for  qualifying  men 
of  even  the  highest  and  most  unquestionable  talents, 
lo  exercise  them  with  credit  to  themselves  and  ad- 
vantage  to  others. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
Qtatc5mcn. 


BOYHOOD  OF  CANNING. 

This  illustrious  and  patriotic  statesman,  whose  rise 
Bhook  hostile  parties  to  their  centre,  and  Avhose  name 
deservedly  occupies  so  brilliant  a  space  in  the  polit- 
ical history  of  the  country  was  born  on  the  11th  of 
April,  1770,  in  the  parish  of  Marylebone,  where  he 
was  in  due  course  baptized  on  the  9th  of  the  follow- 
ing month.  But  though  London  was  thus  his  birth- 
place, he  was  ever  in  the  habit  of  considering  him- 
self an  Irishman,  as  appears  by  the  letter  to  his  friend, 
Sir  Walter  Scott,  on  the  occasion  of  the  great  Border 
minstrel's  visit  to  the  Emerald  Isle.  His  father  was 
one  of  the  Cannings  of  Garvagh,  in  Londonderry, 
where  they  had  settled  in  the  beginning  of  the  seven- 
teenth century.  This  talented  gentleman,  having 
incurred  the  displeasure  of  his  father,  fled  from  his 
native  soil ;  perhaps,  Teucer-like,  indulging  in  the 
hope  of  seeing  a  new  Garvagh  arise  on  English 
ground.     Fortune,  however,  did  not  favor  him,  ex 


BOYHOOD  OF  CANNING.  73 

cept  in  the  bestowment  of  a  sou  destined  to  enshrine 
the  name  in  enduring  splendor.  Entering  as  a  stu- 
dent at  the  Middle  Temple,  the  exile  was,  in  due 
time,  called  to  the  bar;  but  politics  and  literature 
seem  to  have  had  greater  charms  for  him  than  law, 
so  he  sacrificed  the  study  of  "Coke  on  Lyttleton"  to 
the  Muses,  and  relished  the  society  of  Wilkes  and 
the  other  mock-patriots  of  the  day  more  than  that  of 
the  learned  array  at  Westminster  Hall.  A  mar- 
riage that  had  more  of  romance  than  prudence  in  it. 
involved  him  in  somewhat  galling  poverty  ;  and,  hav- 
ing failed  to  better  his  circumstances  by  engaging  in 
trade,  for  which  nature  had  imfitted  him,  he  experi- 
enced the  peculiar  depression  resulting  from  repeated 
disappointment.  The  birth  of  his  son  was  a  fresh 
source  of  anxiety,  more  particularly  as  he  had,  some 
time  before,  for  the  sake  of  temporary  relief  from 
pressing  debt,  renounced  his  claims  as  heir-at-law  to 
the  family  property,  and  thus  deprived  his  child  of 
his  right  to  the  inheritance.  Preyed  upon  by  regret 
and  vexation,  he  sunk  under  his  accumulated  morti- 
fications, and  died  on  the  completion  of  one  year  by 
the  infant,  who  was  to  vindicate  the  claims  of  genius 
to  a  due  participation  in  the  government  of  the  mighty 
empire,  whose  greatness  his  brilliant  eloquence  so  often 
celebrated. 

An  annuity,  to  which  the  clever  but  luckless  Temp- 
lar had  been  entitled,  reverting  at  his  death  to  his 
father,  the  fair  widow  was  left  without  the  meana 


74  STATESMEN. 

of  support,  and  with  no  source  of  comfort  but  her 
child.  How  appropriate,  in  her  position,  would 
have  been  the  lines  which  Campbell  puts  into  the 
mouth  of  "  the  mournful  mother,"  while  affection- 
ately watching  by  the  couch  of  her  slumbering  in- 
fant!— 

"  Sleep,  image  of  thy  father,  sleep,  my  boy  ! 
No  Ihig'ring  hour  of  sorrow  shall  be  thine ; 
No  sigh  that  rent  thy  father's  heart  and  mine , 
Bright  as  hi.s  manly  sire,  the  son  shall  be 
In  form  and  soul ;   but,  ah  !   more  blest  than  he ! 
Thy  fame,  thy  worth,  thy  filial  love,  at  last 
Shall  soothe  this  aching  heart  for  all  the  past — 
With  many  a  smile  my  solitude  repay. 
And  chase  the  world's  ungenerous  scorn  away  !" 

Thus  unhappily  situated,  Mrs.  Canning,  with  the 
advice  of  her  friends,  betook  herself  to  the  stage. 
She  made  her  first  appearance  at  Drury  Lane,  in 
November,  1773,  under  the  auspices  of  Garrick,  and 
with  the  patronage  of  the  Court.  But,  owing  to  in- 
experience, and  perhaps  inaptitude  for  the  calling,  she 
was  not  so  successful  in  her  histrionic  efforts  as  had 
been  anticipated  ;  and,  notwithstanding  her  youth 
and  beauty,  she  was  obliged  to  repair  to  the  less  fas- 
tidious audiences  in  the  provinces.  A  marriage, 
into  which  she  was  soon  imfortunately  drawn,  placed 
her  son  under  the  care  of,  and  in  perpetual  contact 
with,  a  man  of  intemperate  habits  and  disrepnlabl<3 
character,  rendering  it  extremely  improbable  that  ho 


BOYHOOD  OF  CANNING.  75 

ehould  ever  arrive  at  high  distinction,  or  even  ordi- 
nary respectabihty. 

The  world  is  indebted  to  Moody  the  actor,  a  man 
of  bkmt  and  rough  n^anners,  but  of  a  kind  and 
honest  heart,  for  one  of  its  brightest  children  not 
having  fallen  a  victim  to  unpropitious  circumstances. 
He  Avas  struck  with  the  boy's  talents,  and  became 
strongly  interested  in  his  welfare.  Resolved  to  do 
what  he  could  to  promote  it,  he  applied  to  his  uncle, 
Mr.  Stratford  Canning,  a  London  merchant,  drew 
an  alarming  picture  of  his  perilous  position,  declared 
that  he  was  on  the  high-road  to  the  gallows,  dilated 
on  the  wonderful  promise  he  displayed,  and  con- 
fidently predicted  that,  if  properly  brought  forward 
in  the  world,  he  would  one  day  become  a  great  man. 
The  step  was  bold,  as  all  communication  with  the 
family  had  long  since  ceased  ;  but  it  succeeded  ;  for, 
though  the  uncle,  with  a  selfishness  excusable  enough 
under  the  circumstances,  was  at  first  excessively  un- 
willing to  interfere,  the  benevolent  player's  persever- 
ance overcame  all  obstacles,  and  the  wealthy  trader 
consented,  on  certain  conditions,  to  take  charge  of  his 
hopeful  nepheAV. 

The  duty,  thus  hesitatingly  undertaken,  was  well 
and  faithfully  fulfilled ;  and  a  small  estate  in  Ire- 
land, which,  at  the  earnest  solicitation  of  his  grand- 
mother, had  been  set  aside  for  the  purpose,  defrayed 
the  expense  of  the  future  "great  man's"  education 
He  was  instructed  in  the  rudiments  of  learning  at 


,6  STATESMEN. 

Hyde  Abbey  School,  near  Winchester.  The  master 
was  one  of  those  rigid  disciplinarians  who,  in  the 
fashion  of  the  day,  spared  not  the  rod ;  but  it  has 
been  supposed  that  Canning's  studious  and  regular 
habits  saved  him  from  the  inconvenience  of  such  a 
system.  At  all  events,  unlike  some  of  the  other  pu- 
pils, he  entertained  throughout  life  a  grateful  sense 
of  the  advantages  derived  at  the  establishment ;  and, 
when  at  the  height  of  his  power,  showed  his  appro 
elation  of  them  by  presenting  his  old  preceptor  with 
a  prebend  in  Winchester  Cathedral. 

Even  at  this  early  season  of  youth  he  possessed 
great  skill  in  versification ;  and  when  sent  to  Eton, 
at  the  age  of  twelve,  was  at  once  placed  as  an  Oppi- 
dan. He  immediately  acquired  distinction,  from  the 
ease  and  elegance  of  his  Latin  and  English  compo- 
sitions, and  by  the  manliness  of  his  habits.  He 
never  played  at  games  like  other  boys,  but  at  once 
assumed  the  sober  dignity  of  manhood.  Indeed  he 
prosecuted  his  studies  as  if  prescient  of  the  career 
before  him  ;  and  endowed,  as  he  must  have  felt 
himself  to  be,  he  was  so  far  from  placing  his  trust 
entirely  in  the  inspirations  of  genius,  that  ho  was  re- 
markable for  the  assiduity  and  industry  with  which 
he  applied  himself  to  mental  improvement.  His 
reputation  grew  rapidly,  and  the  more  choice  spirits 
began  to  gather  round  him.  At  that  time  a  society 
existed  at  Eton  for  purposes  of  discussion,  and  used 
to  meet  periodically  in  one  of  the  halls.     The  pro* 


CANNING'S  MIMIC  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


BOYHOOD  OF  CANNING.  79 

cccdings  were  conducted  in  imitation  of  the  House 
of  Commons  ;  the  speaker  was  elected  according  to 
rule ;  the  ministerial  and  opposition  parties  were 
regularly  formed ;  and  the  subject  of  debate  was 
filtered  upon  with  due  gravity,  decorum,  and  so- 
leinnity.  In  this  arena  Canning  soon  gained  celo- 
brity  by  the  clearness  and  vigor  of  his  speeche?-- 
pledges  slight  indeed,  but  in  his  case  sure,  of  thune 
magnificent  powers  he  was  to  exhibit  in  Parliament, 
where,  in  the  words  of  a  living  orator,  he  "ruled  the 
House  as  a  man  rules  a  high-bred  steed,  as  Alexan- 
der ruled  Bucephalus ;  of  whom  it  was  said,  that  the 
horse  and  the  rider  were  equally  proud." 

The  friendships  he  now  formed  led  to  an  enter- 
prise laudably  characterized  by  spirit,  courage,  and 
ambition.  This  was  the  publication  of  the  famous 
boy-periodical  called  the  "Microcosm,"  projected  by 
the  more  accomplished  Etonians,  with  Canning  at 
their  head.  It  issued  weekly  from  Windsor,  and 
was  after  the  plan  of  the  "Spectator;"  the  design 
being  to  treat  the  characteristics  of  the  boys  at  Eton 
as  Addison  and  his  friends  had  done  those- of  general 
t:ociety.  The  scheme  was  devised  with  care  and 
deliberation,  and  entered  on  with  exemplary  energy. 
The  first  number  appeared  in  November,  1786  ;  and 
in  it  the  juvenile  editor  wrote — 

"  The  curious  observer  may  here  remark  in  the 
bud  the  difierent  casts  and  turns  of  genius  which 
will,  in  future,  strongly  characterize  the  leading  feat- 


80  STATESMEN. 

ures  of"  the  mind.  We  see  the  embryo-statesman, 
who  may  hereafter  wield  and  direct  at  pleasure  the 
mighty  and  complex  system  of  European  polities, 
now  employing  the  whole  extent  of  his  abilities  tu 
circumvent  his  companions  at  their  plays,  or  adjust- 
ing the  important  differences  which  may  arise  be- 
tween the  contending  heroes  of  his  little  circle  ;  or  a 
general,  the  future  terror  of  France  and  Spain,  now 
the  dread  only  of  his  equals,  and  the  undisputed,  lord 
and  president  of  the  boxing-ring.  The  Grays  and 
Wallers  of  the  rising  generation  here  tune  their  little 
lyres ;  and  he  who  hereafter  may  sing  the  glories 
of  Britain  must  first  celebrate  at  Eton  the  smaller 
glories  of  hirf  College." 

Canning  was  not  the  editor,  but  contributed  a  larger 
share  to  the  work  than  any  other  boy.  Another  of  the 
writers  was  Mr.  Frere,  who  afterward  shone  so  con- 
spicuously in  tho  pages  of  the  "  Anti-Jacobin."  Can- 
ning's essays  were,  however,  by  far  the  best.  They 
quite  surpass  any  other  specimens  of  English  prose 
written  in  boyhood,  and  were  specially  praised  by  the 
critics  of  the  period  for  that  refined  humor  which,  in 
after  years,  was  so  often  and  with  so  much  eflect  em- 
ployed against  his  Parliamentary  antagonists.  Ilia 
poem  on  the  slavery  of  Greece,  in  one  of  the  early 
numbers,  was  also  a  creditable  effusion.  The  work 
continued  to  appear  till  July,  1787,  when  the  copyright 
was  sold  for  f5,fty  guineas.  Several  imitations  of  it  have 
k)een  unsuccessfully  attempted  at  different  .schools,  the 


BOYHOOD  OF  CANNING.  61 

most  ambitious  probably,  being  the  coi  temporary 
paper  which  emanated  from  Harrow.  It  came  forth 
with  a  somewhat  indiscreet  frontispiece,  represent 
iiig  the  two  pubhcations  in  a  balance,  the  Harrow 
periodical  being  made  to  outweigh  its  rival.  Upon 
■.seeing  it  Canning,  with  his  usual  point  and  felicity, 
dashed  ofl"  this  epigram  : 

"  ^Vhat  mean  ye  by  this  print  so  rare. 
Ye  wits  of  Harrow  jealous  ? 
Behold  !   your  rivals  soar  in  air, 
And  ye  are  heavy  fellows  /'' 

At  Eton  Canning  was  rather  an  ardent  politician, 
and,  on  one  occasion,  took  an  active  interest  in  the 
Windsor  election.  In  1788  he  left  Eton  ;  but  so 
strong  was  his  attachment  to  the  place,  that  even  in 
his  greatest  days  he  hardly  ever  missed  a  Montcm, 
and  on  such  occasions  was  in  the  habit  of  enjoying 
the  amusements  as  much  as  the  boys  themselves. 

At  Oxford  he  made  many  new  friends  ;  and  among 
others  subsequently  distinguished  in  public  life,  he 
became  intimate  with  Mr.  Jenkinson,  who  after- 
ward, as  Earl  of  Liverpool,  was  at  the  head  of  aflairs 
for  fifteen  years.  A  debating  society  was  formed,  lim- 
ited to  the  number  of  six,  and  met  every  Thursday 
evening  at  the  rooms  of  the  members.  Before  sepa- 
rating at  night,  or,  as  it  not  seldom  happened,  at  one 
or  two  in  the  morning,  the  subject  for  the  following 
week  was  voted  and  recorded.  Canning  and  Jenk 
inson  were  generally  matched  anainst  carh  oilier  in 
F 


«2  STATESMEN. 

the  eoniest  of  words ;  an  amicable  rivalry  and  pen 
erous  emulation  lending  life  and  animation  to  the 
intellectual  struggles.  Here,  Lord  Liverpool,  who 
was  educated  expressly  with  a  viev/  to  taking  part 
in  the  government  of  the  country,  is  said  to  have  de- 
livered his  first  speeches ;  whereas  Canning's  strength, 
as  we  have  seen,  had  been  already  tried  and  proved 
at  Eton,  where  the  late  Earl  Grey  and  Marquis 
Wellesley  had  put  forth  their  juvenile  powers  of 
debate  at  an  earlier  period. 

That  Canning  already  looked  to  the  House  ol 
Commons  as  the  scene  in  which  his  triumphs  were 
to  be  accomplished  there  can  be  no  doubt ;  for, 
writing  to  a  friend  in  1768,  he  said — 

"  I  am  already,  God  knows,  too  much  inclined,  both 
by  my  own  sanguine  wishes  and  the  connection  with 
M'hom  I  am  most  intimate,  and  whom  I,  above  all 
others,  revere,  to  aim  at  the  House  of  Commons  as 
the  only  path  to  the  only  desirable  thing  in  this  world 
— the  gratification  of  ambition,  while,  at  the  same 
time,  every  tie  of  common-sense,  of  fortune,  and  of 
duty,  draws  me  to  the  study  of  a  profession." 

His  University  studies  were,  in  the  mean  time, 
pursued  with  incessant  diligence,  and  his  achieve- 
ments were  equal  to  his  industry.  He  contested  tho 
()rize  for  "The  Aboriginal  Britons"  with  the  Rev. 
J)r.  Ptichards,  and  was  beaten,  but  transcended  a  1 
competitors  in  the  "  Iter  ad  Meccam,"  which  v,a.¥ 
recited  by   him   in  June,    1780;    the  theatre  being 


BOYHOOD  OF  CANNING.  83 

unusually  full,  and  presenting  a  splendid  assemblage? 
of  beauty  and  fashion 

The  vacations  were  generally  spent  at  some  rural 
mansion,  where  he  was  always,  from  his  wit  and 
brilliancy,  a  welcome  guest.  One  of  his  frequent 
places  of  resort  was  Crewe  Hall,  in  the  county  of 
Chester,  whose  lady's  wit,  grace,  and  beauty,  were 
at  that  time  so  effectual  in  rendering  the  Whig  cause 
attractive.  One  day  while  walking  in  the  grounds 
with  this  charming  dame,  "one  of  the  women  of  the 
people,"  she  asked  him  to  furnish  an  epitaph  for  her 
favorite  dog  Quon,  which  had  just  been  buried  neat 
the  dairy-house.  Mr.  Canning  declared  that  he 
could  not  write  epitaphs ;  but  she  insisting,  and  re- 
fusing to  take  any  denial,  he  boldly  produced  the 
folloAviiig : 

''  Poor  Quon  lies  buried  near  this  dairy, 
And  is  not  this  a  sad  quandary  ?" 

At  the  close  of  his  Oxford  career  he  entered  as  a 
student  at  Lincoln's  Inn ;  but,  as  may  be  conceived, 
without  setting  himself  veiy  seriously  to  the  study  of 
the  law.  He  devoted  much  time  to  the  political  de- 
bating societies,  where  he  was  warmly  applauded  as 
a  patriot,  and  was  admitted  to  aristocratic  assem- 
blies, where  the  great  Lord  Shelburne  predicted  he 
would  one  day  be  prime  minister  of  England.  Hia 
position,  however,  was  extremely  difficult  and  per- 
plexing ;  his  maturer  convictions  belied  the  political 
impressions  of  boyhood  ;  he  therefore  became  a  Tory, 


84  STATESMEN 

and  gave  in  his  adherence  to  the  minister  of  the  day 
The  imperial-minded  son  of  Chatham,  who  was  then 
almost  single-handed,  sustaining  the  mighty  conflict, 
knew  and  recognized  the  value  of  such  an  ally.  In 
1793  Canning  took  his  seat  as  member  of  Parlia- 
ment for  Newport,  and  soon  after  received  the  ap- 
pointment of  Under-Secretary  for  Foreign  Affairs.  In 
this  post  he  continued  till  Mr.  Pitt's  resignation,  the 
"  Anti-Jacobin"  hav'ng  meanwhile  been  given  to 
the  world.  On  the  return  of  Mr.  Pitt  to  power  in 
1804,  he  became  Treasurer  of  the  Navy.  In  1807 
he  was  Foreign  Secretary  in  the  administration  of 
the  Duke  of  Portland,  with  whom  he  was  connect- 
ed through  his  wife,  the  daughter  and  co-heiress  of 
the  celebrated  General  Scott.  In  1S18  he  went  as 
embassador  to  Lisbon,  and,  shortly  after  returning, 
filled  for  sometime  the  ofhce  of  President  of  the 
Board  of  Control. 

In  1822  he  had  been  appointed  Governor-General 
of  India,  and  had  actually  gone  to  Liverpool  to  take 
leave  of  the  electors  of  that  town,  who  had,  much  to 
their  credit,  four  times  returned  him  to  Parliament, 
when  the  death  of  Lord  Castlcrcagh  made  way  fui 
him  at  the  Foreign  Office.  In  the  April  of  1627, 
on  the  death  of  Lord  Liverpool,  Mr.  Canning  became 
prime  minister  of  England,  thus  fulfilling  Lord  Shcl- 
burne's  rather  hazardous  prophecy.  He  did  not  live 
long  to  enjoy  his  hard-won,  but  well-merited  honors. 
On  the  rnorninij  of  the  8th  of  August  he  breathed 


BOYHOOD  OF  WEBSTER.  85 

his  last,  and  was  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey,  by 
the  tomb  of  Mr.  Pitt.  His  death  caused  a  deep, 
heartfelt  sorrow,  which  pervaded  all  ranks  and  con- 
ditions of  his  countrymen. 


BOYHOOD  OF  WEBSTER. 

This  distinguished  statesman,  whose  loss  Europe 
and  America  have  recently  been  called  upon  to 
deplore,  is  stated  to  have  been  of  Scottish  descent ; 
but  it  is  believed  that  his  family,  a  collateral  branch 
of  which  produced  the  celebrated  lexicographer, 
resided  some  time  in  England  previously  to  1636, 
about  which  year  his  direct  progenitor  settled  in  the 
town  of  Hampton,  New  Hampshire.  The  father  of 
Webster  appears  to  have  been  a  man  far  above  the 
ordinary  level ;  and,  doubtless,  he  imparted  more  val- 
uable traits  to  his  son  than  the  jet-black  hair,  dark 
piercing  eyes,  gipsy-like  skin,  and  sturdy  frame,  which 
distinguished  both.  When,  young,  he  enlisted  as  a 
fcoldier  in  the  ranks  of  the  provincial  troops,  under 
Sir  Geoffrey  Amherst,  and  accompanied  that  general 
in  his  invasion  of  Canada.  Before  the  close  of  the 
war,  his  conduct  and  valor  had  raised  him  to  the 
dignity  of  captain,  and  his  services  were  rewarded 
with  a  grant  of  land  at  the  head  of  the  Merrimac 
River.  Having  thus  fairly  entitled  himself  to  say 
viUitavi    noil  sine  gloria,  he  located  himself  at  the 


86  STATESMEN. 

extreme  north  of  the  town  of  Sahsbury;  so  that,  as 
his  son.  afterward  said,  the  smoke  of  his  log-cabin 
ascended  nearer  the  north  star  than  that  of  any  of  his 
majesty's  New  England  subjects ;  and  commenced 
the  process  of  clearing  in  1761.  Shortly  after- 
ward, he  married  a  lady  of  Welsh  extraction,  built 
a  frame-house,  dug  a  well,  and  planted  an  elm  over  it. 
There,  on  the  18th  of  January,  1782,  Daniel  Web- 
ster was  born ;  and  though  the  frame-house  and  the 
original  log-cabiu  have  alike  disappeared,  the  farra 
still  remains  in  possession  of  the  family.  The  tree 
under  whose  shade  he  sat  and  read,  or  mused  as  a 
boy,  and  the  well  which  quenched  his  thirst,  and 
reflected  his  shadow,  are  still  visible,  and  to  the  last 
were  objects  of  as  much  interest  and  attraction,  when 
he  left  for  a  while  the  busy  haunts  of  men  to  enjoy 
the  mvitmg  repose  which  the  place  of  his  nativity 
afibrded,  as  they  had  been,  when,  with  open  book,  he 
contemplated  the  beautiful  "  Elegy,"  whose  stanzas 
he  ever  loved  to  repeat,  and  which,  within  a  few 
hours  of  his  death,  conveyed  pleasure  and  gratification 
to  his  heart,  and  solaced  his  departing  spirit. 

The  abilities  that  shone  in  Webster  tlirough  life 
were  encouraged  and  fostered  in  the  earliest  of  those 
years,  when  human  nature  so  easily  takes  impressions 
for  good  or  evil,  by  his  mother,  who  united  a  strong 
mind  and  a  powerful  intellect  to  an  ardent  ambition 
and  a  fearless  spirit.  He  supposed  that  she  must 
have  commenced  his  lessons  almost  in  infancy,  as  bo 


'.L/^,.fi^M}'i^-'m 


BOYHOOD  OF  WEBSTER.  89 

was  unable  to  recollect  the  time  when  he  could  not 
read  his  Bible  ;  and,  being  naturally  and  justly  proud 
of  the  extraordinary  talents  he  displayed,  she  bent 
the  whole  force  of  her  vigorous  understanding  to  train 
&nd  prepare  hina  for  that  station  which  she  felt  and 
foresaw,  he  would  ere  long  occupy.  The  wild,  thinly- 
populated  country  where  his  father  dwelt,  was  not, 
as  may  be  supposed,  excessively  tempting  to  the 
schoolmaster  tribe  ;  and  the  opportunities  of  educa- 
tion enjoyed  by  the  future  statesman  and  orator  were 
therefore  extremely  limited  in  extent  and  indifferent 
in  value.  One  itinerant  teacher  did,  however,  keep 
a  school  for  a  small  portion  of  the  year,  at  three 
miles'  distance,  and  to  it  Webster  trudged  daily  in 
mid-winter,  often  up  to  the  ankles  in  mud  and  mire. 
The  schoolmaster  initiated  him  into  all  the  knowl- 
edge he  himself  possessed  ;  namely,  reading,  writing, 
and  arithmetic  ;  and  the  future  statesman  began  to 
manifest  an  evident  love  of  books,  which,  as  may  be 
imagined,  were  somewhat  scarce  in  the  district. 
However,  by  the  exertions  of  his  father,  combined 
with  those  of  the  clergyman  and  lawyer,  a  small 
circulating  library  was  soon  opened,  and  straightway 
Webster  began  to  devour  the  contents,  with  the 
eagerness  of  a  young  tiger  tearing  its  prey.  He 
showed  at  this  period  a  decided  predilection  for  poet- 
ical works,  and  committed  to  memory  a  great  deal  of 
poetry,  which  in  after  years  he  turned  to  account 
with  a  judgment  and  felicity  not  always  exhibited 


90  STATESMEN. 

by  Transatlantic  orators.  When  not  engaged  in 
reading  or  study,  the  fishing-rod  or  the  gun  was  his 
companion.  He  was  fond  of  sohtude,  and  of  river 
and  woodland  scenery,  under  the  inspiration  of  which 
he  was,  in  later  years,  in  the  habit  of  composing  am) 
pondering  the  most  remarkable  passages  in  those  ora- 
tions which  delighted  the  hearts,  refined  the  taste, 
and  elevated  the  tone  of  his  countrymen. 

At  the  age  of  fourteen  he  was  sent  to  Exeter,  and 
entered  at  the  academy,  where  he  learned  the  rudi 
nients  of  English  grammar,  and  made  considerable 
progress  in  the  learned  languages.  It  is  rather  sin- 
gular that  while  there  he  manifested  the  strangesi 
repugnance  to  declamation  of  every  description  ;  no: 
could  all  the  encouragement  or  entreaties  of  the  assist- 
ant-tutor tempt  or  induce  him  to  engage  in  it.  lie 
did,  indeed,  commit  pieces  to  memory,  and  recite 
them  in  his  own  room,  but  when  the  time  for  deliv 
ering  them  arrived,  he  shrunk  from  a  public  display 
The  fact  is  so  interesting,  that  it  may  not  improperl) 
be  given  in  the  oracle's  own  w'ords  : 

"  I  believe  I  made  tolerable  progress  in  most 
branches  which  I  attended  to  while  in  this  school ; 
but  there  was  one  thing  I  could  not  do.  I  could 
not  make  a  declamation.  1  could  not  sjicak  bcforn 
the  school.  The  kind  and  excellent  Buckminstei 
sought  especially  to  pursuade  me  to  perform  the  ex- 
ercise of  declamation,  like  other  boys,  but  I  could  not 
do  it      Many  a  piece  did  I  commit  1o  memory,  and 


BOYHOOD  OF  WEBSTEK.  9 

recite  and  rehearse  in  my  own  room,  over  and  ovo 
again ;  yet  when  the  day  came,  when  the  schoo 
collected  to  hear  declamations,  when  my  name  wai 
called,  and  all  eyes  were  turned  to  my  seat,  I  coulJ 
not  raise  myself  from  it.  Sometimes  the  instructors 
frowned,  sometimes  they  smiled.  But  I  never  could 
command  sufficient  resolution." 

This  school  was  found  more  expensive  than  con- 
sisted with  his  father's  means,  and  he  was  conse- 
quently removed  from  it  after  a  few  months,  during 
which  he  had  been  unequaled  for  the  accuracy  and 
success  of  his  study.  He  was  then  taken  by  his  fa- 
ther to  be  placed  under  the  care  of  a  clergyman  who 
received  pupils  into  his  family,  and  prepared  them 
for  college  on  moderate  terms.  On  their  way,  the 
intention  of  giving  him  the  benefit  of  a  college  edu- 
cation was  communicated,  and  seems  to  have  elicited 
the  finest  feelings.  "  1  remember,"  he  says,  "  the 
very  hill  which  we  were  ascending,  through  deep 
snows,  in  a  New-England  sleigh,  when  my  father 
made  known  his  purpose  to  me.  I  could  not  speak 
How  could  he,  I  thought,  with  so  large  a  family, 
and  in  such  narrow  circumstances,  think  of  incurring 
60  great  an  expense  for  me !  A  warm  glow  ran  all 
over  me,  and  I  laid  my  head  on  my  father's  shoulder 
and  wept." 

His  progress  was  wonderful  and  rapid  ;  and  now 
commenced  that  mental  toil  which  never  ceased  to 
the  end  of  hie  life.     Under  the  careful  tuition  of  Dr 


1)2  STATESMEN. 

Woods,  ho,  with  but  an  imperfect  knowledge  oi 
Latin,  was  in  the  habit  of  reading  one  hundred  hnea 
of  Virgil  at  a  lesson.  He  not  only  read,  but  under- 
stood and  relished  them.  His  recreations  were  the 
same  as  those  which  subsequently  occupied  his  leisure 
hours  ;  and,  in  his  rambles,  the  rifle  was  his  constant 
•companion.  Dr.  Woods  once  ventured  to  hint  that 
his  example  in  this  respect  might  exercise  an  injuri- 
ous influence  on  the  other  boys.  The  suggestion, 
though  delicately  conveyed,  acted  on  the  mind  of  his 
sensitive  pupil  to  such  a  degree,  that  he  sat  up  and 
devoted  the  whole  of  the  next  night  to  study  ;  and, 
when  the  master  appeared  as  usual  in  the  morning, 
read  his  hundred  lines  without  a  mistake.  As  the 
worthy  doctor  was  preparing  to  go,  Webster  request- 
ed him  to  hear  a  few  more  lines.  Another  hundred 
was  read,  and  although  breakfast  was  repeatedly  an- 
nounced, there  was  no  prospect  of  the  lesson  coming 
to  a  conclusion.  At  length  the  impatient  doctor  ask- 
ed him  how  much  farther  he  could  read  ?  "  To  the 
end  of  the  twelfth  boolc  of  the  yEneid,"  was  the  ready 
fcnd  startling  reply. 

From  this  date  his  hours  were  so  sacredly  devoted 
t:>  study  that  in  less  than  a  year  he  read  with  his 
teacher  Virgil  and  Cicero,  and  in  private  two  books 
of  Grotius  and  Puflendorf  in  Latin.  Chance  threw 
in  his  way  an  English  copy  of  "  The  Adventures  of 
Don  Quixote,"  which  produced  its  usual  fascinating 
.nfluence  on  liis  imagination,  and  was  perused  with 


BOYHOOD  OF  WEBSTER.  93 

eager  celerity.     The  "  Spectator"  also  took  his  fancy, 
and  received  much  of  his  attention. 

In  the  month  of  July,  Webster  was  summoned 
home  to  assist  on  the  farm  ;  but  he  was,  at  that 
time  so  little  qualified  by  physical  strength  for  such 
labors,  that  a  half  day's  experience  sent  him  home 
M-ith  blistered  hands  and  wearied  limbs.  Next  morn- 
ing his  father  sent  him  back  to  his  teacher,  who  re- 
ceived him  Avith  heartfelt  joy  ;  and  assured  him  that 
with  hard  study  he  might  be  fit  to  enter  college  at 
the  opening  of  the  next  session.  He  set  himself  to 
grapple  with  Greek,  of  which  he  had  not  then  learn- 
ed even  the  alphabet,  and  was  particularly  success- 
ful in  the  efibrt,  though  he  had  only  a  couple  of 
months  to  devote  to  it. 

Fortified  with  sucb  learning  as  he  had  acquired, 
Webster,  in  the  summer  of  1797,  look  the  least 
valuable  of  his  father's  horses,  and  depositing  his 
wardrobe  and  library  in  a  pair  of  saddle-bags,  set 
out  for  Hanover.  Scarcely  had  he  snatched  the  last 
fond  look  of  his  father's  dwelling  when  a  furious 
storm  began  to  blow,  and  rendered  his  journey  some- 
what disagreeable.  However,  by  jierseverance,  he 
reached  the  place  of  destination  on  the  second  day  ; 
and  forthwith  entered  the  freshman  class,  at  Dart- 
mouth College,  in  which  he  was  at  once  recognized 
as  being  superior  to  his  associates.  After  a  residence 
of  two  years,  during  which  he  displayed  his  wonted 
ardor  and  industry,  he  returned  home  to  spend  a 


94  STATESMEN. 

vacation.  He  now  felt  keenly  for  the  situation  ol 
his  younger  brother,  M'ho  was  destined  to  remain  at 
home,  and  spend  his  energies  in  a  vain  attempt  tc 
remove  a  mortgage  from  the  homestead.  Webstei 
knew  and  appreciated  his  brother's  intellectual  en- 
dowments, and  resolved  that  they  should  enjoy  equal 
privileges.  For  a  whole  night  they  held  earnest  dis- 
course of  their  prospects ;  and,  next  morning,  Webster 
determined  to  break  the  matter  to  their  father,  who 
experienced  no  small  pain  at  the  thought  of  separa- 
tion from  both  his  sons,  especially  as  he  had  set  his 
heart  upon  having  the  younger  as  his  helper.  A 
family  council  was  held,  and  Mrs.  Webster's  char- 
acteristic decision  at  once  prevailed,  and  settled  the 
question.  "I  have  lived  long  in  the  Avorld,"  she 
said,  "and  have  been  happy  in  my  children.  If 
Daniel  and  Ezekicl  will  promise  to  take  care  of  me 
in  my  old  age,  I  will  consent  to  the  sale  of  all  our 
property  ;  and  they  may  enjoy  the  benefit  of  what 
remains  after  our  debts  are  paid."  The  father  yield- 
ed, and  when  the  elder  brother  returned  to  college, 
the  younger  with  a  staff  in  one  hand  and  a  bundle 
in  the  other,  bent  his  way  on  foot  to  the  scene  of 
his  preparatory  studies.  After  graduating  at  the  age 
of  nineteen,  Webster  entered  the  office  of  a  lawyer 
in  his  native  place  ;  but,  being  pressed  by  poverty 
he  accepted  an  invitation  to  teach  a  school  at  Frye- 
burg  Maine,  at  a  salary  of  three  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars,  or  seventy-five  pounds  a  year.     Such  a  po- 


BOYHOOD  OF  WEBSTER.  95 

sition  was  certainly  critical,  and  not  a  little  perilous 
to  his  prospects  of  greatness;  but  he  was  resolved  ; 
and  aiit  viam  inveniam  aut  faciam  might  have 
been  his  exclamation  as  he  toiled  through  the  daily 
dull  routine.  Notwithstanding  the  severe  labors  of 
the  school,  he  devoted  his  evenings  to  the  irksome 
drudgery  of  recording  deeds  in  the  county  register, 
for  which  he  received  a  moderate  remuneration,  that 
enabled  him  to  save  his  whole  salary ;  and,  besides, 
applied  himself  to  the  study  of  Blackstone's  "  Com- 
mentaries." In  1S02  he  returned  to  the  lawyer's 
office ;  but  two  years  later  went  to  Boston,  and 
pursued  his  studies  under  a  profound  jurist  and 
statesman  of  that  city.  In  1805  he  was  admitted 
tn  the  bar,  and  won  high  legal  fame. 

In  1812  he  w^as  elected  to  Congress,  where  his 
first  speech  produced  so  striking  an  efiect,  that  com- 
petent judges  did  not  hesitate  to  predict  that  ho 
would,  some  day,  be  one  of  the  first  statesmen  in 
America.  His  succeeding  efforts  w^ere  so  successful 
as  to  call  forth  the  remark,  that  "  the  North  had  not 
his  equal,  nor  the  South  his  superior."  He  continued 
to  reside  in  the  town  of  Portsmouth  till  1815,  when 
lie  removed  to  Boston,  and  for  some  years  devoted 
himself  to  his  profession  with  briUiant  success.  In 
1822  he  was  elected  Representative  in  Congress 
from  the  Boston  district,  which  he  continued  to  rep- 
resent till  elected  to  the  Senate  of  the  United  States. 
la  1841  he  became  Secretary  of  State,  under  the 


90  STATESMEN 

Presidency  of  General  Harrison,  an  office  to  which 
be  was  worthily  recalled  by  Mr.  Fillmore  in  1850, 
and  the  duties  of  which  he  discharged  with  signal 
ability  and  success.  On  the  24th  of  October,  1852, 
he  died  at  his  mansion  at  Marshfield,  near  Boston, 
where  he  was  interred  in  presence  of  a  vast  and 
mourning  assemblage. 

The  youthful  career  of  this  remarkable  man  is 
full  of  instruction  and  encouragement  to  juvenile  aspi- 
rants, in  whatever  circumstances  they  may  be  placed. 
Few  men  in  pvnsuit  of  greatness  have  had  more  diffi- 
culties to  encounter  on  their  entrance  into  life  ;  but 
he  nobly  surmounted  them  all  by  a  determined  will, 
indomitable  perseverance,  and  industry  that  no  labor 
could  daunt,  and  by  the  exercise  of  the  talents  with 
which  Providence  had  endowed  him,  for  the  purpose 
of  conferring  benefit  on  his  fellow-men.  Let  the 
ambitious  youth  do  likewise,  and  he  will  not  be 
without  his  reward — -fame,  respect,  admiration,  and 
the  lofty  consciousness  of  having  glorioiislr  done  hia 
duty. 


il!i!f!!!i|l!| 


CHAPTER  V 


BOYHOOD  OF  LOUD  MANSFIELD 

Of  the  men  who,  in  England,  have  profited  by, 
and  contributed  to,  the  grandeur  of  the  law,  hardly 
one  has  exercised  more  influence,  or  radiated  with 
greater  brilliancy,  than  the  "silver-tongued  Mans- 
field ;"  though  his  birth  was  certainly  not  such  as 
to  promise  any  intellectual  struggles  more  important 
than  some  very  disagreeable  ones  with  poverty  and 
pride. 

The  fifth  Viscount  Stormont,  a  Scottish  peer,  with 
a  long  pedigree  and  a  small  estate,  had  married  the 
only  daughter  of  Scott,  of  Scotstarvet,  representative 
of  the  male  line  of  Buccleuch;  and,  by  this  lady  had 
no  less  than  fourteen  children,  of  whom  the  fourth 
son  was  destined  to  become  Chief-Justice  of  England, 
one  of  her  most  splendid  orators,  and  the  framer  of 
that  commercial  code  which  is  not  the  exclusive  pos- 
session of  any  single  nation,  but  the  common  property 
and  invaluable  heritage  of  all. 


100  LAWYERS. 

William  Murray  was  born  on  the  2d  of  March, 
1705,  at  the  ruinous  castle  of  Scone,  built  on  the  site 
of  the  ancient  abbey  in  which  the  kings  of  Scotland 
had  been  crowned  from  times  of  fabulous  antiquity. 
He  is  stated  to  have  been  a  very  fine  child,  but  there 
is  no  mention  of  prophetic  hope  having  raised  around 
his  cradle  any  of  those  visions  which  might  have 
charmed  the  imagination  of  a  fond  parent,  when 
keeping  watch  at  the  couch  of  an  infant  destined  to 
shine  among  his  legal  contemporaries,  like  the  moon 
among  the  lesser  lights.  His  earliest  years  wers 
passed  under  the  care  of  his  nurse,  on  the  banks  of 
the  beautiful  Tay  ;  but  its  fair  and  picturesque  scen- 
ery seems  to  have  made  no  lasting  impression  on  his 
memory,  as  no  lingering  affection  for  his  childish 
haunts  ever  brought  him  back  to  them,  after  he  had 
entered  on  the  career  of  ambition. 

When  very  young  he  was  sent  to  receive  the  rudi- 
ments of  his  education  at  a  school  in  Perth  about  a 
mile  and  a  half  from  his  father's  residence,  to  which, 
with  a  satchel  on  his  shoulders,  he  went  daily,  some- 
times on  foot,  and  sometimes  on  the  back  of  a  shaggy 
pony.  Here  he  commenced  his  studious  pre])aration 
for  "drinking  champagne  with  the  wits,"  and  being 
"  honored  in  the  House  of  Lords,"  by  applying  him- 
Belf  with  so  much  diligence  to  his  books,  as  altogether 
to  escape  the  infliction  of  the  peculiar  instrument  of 
punishment  which  is  defied,  dreaded,  and  felt  by  the 
schoolboys  of  his  country.     He  was  already  remark 


BOYHOOD  OF  LORD  MANSFIELD,  101 

able  for  the  clearness  of  intellect,  powers  of  applica- 
tion, and  regularity  of  conduct,  which  distinguished 
his  subsequent  career,  contributed  to  his  great  suc« 
cess,  and  lent  lustre  to  his  high  position.  His  knowl- 
edge of  Latin  ere  long  enabled  him  to  translate 
Horace  and  SuUust  with  ease,  to  converse  in  the  Ian 
guage  with  fluency,  and  to  prove  his  proficiency,  by 
writing  both  in  prose  and  verse.  His  companions, 
the  sons  of  the  neighboring  gentry  and  of  the  trades- 
men in  the  town,  had  equal  advantages  with  himself, 
but  he  soon  showed  his  superiority,  and  was  gener- 
ally at  the  head  of  his  class. 

In  1713  Lord  and  Lady  Stormont,  for  purposes 
of  economy,  removed  from  Scone  to  a  small  house  in 
the  county  of  Dumfries,  leaving  Willie  (as  the  future 
Chief-Justice  was  familiarly  named)  and  a  youngei 
brother  in  charge  of  the  master  of  the  grammar- 
school,  who  received  for  their  board  a  yearly  pay- 
ment in  money  and  a  certain  quantity  of  oatmeal, 
which,  although  at  the  time  provokingly  considered 
in  England  as  the  food  of  horses,  was,  it  would  seem, 
in  the  shape  of  porridge,  one  of  the  principal  items 
of  the  daily  fare  set  before  the  incipient  luminary  of 
the  law  and  his  thirteen  brothers  and  sisters  in  theii 
early  years.  When  he  had  raised  himself  to  high 
and  enviable  office,  these  circumstances  connected 
with  his  early  training  furnished  an  inexhaustible 
armory  of  ridicule  to  his  enemies ;  but  he  wrapped 
himself  up  in  a  dignified  indifierence,  which  defied 


1U2  LAWi^ERS. 

their  utmost  efibrts  as  efiectually  as  ever  the  iron 
panoply  of  his  ancestors  had  resisted  more  substan- 
tial weapons  of  offense. 

When  he  was  approaching  his  fourteenth  year,  it 
was  intended  that  he  should  go  to  complete  his  edu- 
cation at  the  University  of  St.  Andrew's ;  but  this 
scheme  was  fortunately  frustrated  by  the  interference 
of  his  brother  James,  who  gave  effect  to  the  Jacobite 
opinions  of  his  family,  and  passed  his  life  in  exile 
under  the  title  of  Earl  of  Dunbar.  This  gentleman, 
who  was  possessed  of  high  and  brilliant  abilities, 
having  received  a  most  favorable  account  of  his  young 
brother's  talents,  was  anxious  to  enlist  him  in  the 
service  of  the  ill-fated  Stuarts.  For  that  purpose  he 
could  conceive  no  better  means  than  having  him 
educated  under  the  auspices  of  the  bold  and  accom- 
plished Bishop  Atterbury,  than  dean  of  Westminster  , 
and  therefore  by  letter  represented  to  his  father  the 
great  advantages  that  would  attend  his  being  brought 
up  there,  the  probability  of  his  being  put  on  the  found- 
ation as  a  King's  Scholar,  and  the  certainty  of  his 
getting  a  scholarship  at  Oxford.  Thus  urged  and 
advised.  Lord  Stormont  resolved  to  send  him  to 
Westminster  School ;  and  it  was  announced  to  tho 
"  boy  of  quality,"  as  he  was  afterward  tauntingly 
termed,  that  he  was  to  delight  his  young  eyes  with 
the  wonders  of  the  rich  south  and  of  the  marvelous 
city  of  London,  instead  of  consorting,  and  enduring 
poverty,  with   the  high-cheeked  and   unpliable-feat* 


BOYHOOD  OF  LORD  MANSFIELD.  103 

ured  students  avIio  paced  the  cloistered  hall  of  St. 
Andrews. 

His  parents  at  that  time  looked  to  the  English  bar 
as  the  sphere  in  which  he  was  to  display,  and  profit 
by,  the  talents  with  which  he  had  been  gifted  ;  and 
It  was  arranged  that  he  should,  without  delay,  set 
out  for  the  region  where  Hope  beckoned  him.  Thosu 
were  not,  however,  the  days  of  quick  and  convenient 
traveling.  Even  post-horses  had  not  come  into 
fashion ;  and  the  adventurous  youths  who  dofled  the 
kilt  and  put  on  Christian  breeches  to  seek  fortune  in 
the  south,  and  to  be  satirized  by  Churchill  and  abused 
by  Johnson,  were  limited  in  their  choice  of  a  convey- 
ance to  an  Edinburgh  coach,  which  started  once 
a  month,  and  professed  to  arrive  in  London  before  the 
tenth  day  after  its  departure,  and  the  traders  that 
sailed  from  Leith  two  or  three  times  a  month,  and 
were  sometimes  six  weeks  on  the  voyage.  Such  be- 
ing the  means  of  public  traveling,  it  was  deemed 
advisable  that  the  young  aspirant  to  legal  distinction 
should  perform  the  journey  on  the  back  of  a  pony 
bred  by  his  noble  father,  which  was  to  be  sold  on 
arrival,  that  the  amount  obtained  for  it  might  assist 
in  defraying  his  expenses  in  London. 

Thus  mounted,  he  left  Perth  and  his  youthful  com- 
rades on  the  15th  of  March,  1718,  in  the  expectation 
of  reaching  Edinburgh  the  same  day  with  ease  and 
safety  ;  but,  when  near  the  end  of  his  journey,  the 
pony  became  lame,  so  that  he  was  under  the  ijecessit> 


104  LAWYERS. 

of  leaving  it  behind,  and  traveling  the  remainder  of 
the  distance  to  the  Scottish  capital  on  foot.  There 
having  fully  equipped  and  accoutred  himself,  and  had 
his  steed  brought  to  him  in  a  sound  condition,  he  pur- 
sued his  way  to  Dumfriesshire  to  bid  fai'ewell  to  his 
parents.  An  old  ash-tree  is  still  pointed  out,  imder 
whose  shade  tradition  asserts  that  he  took  leave  of 
his  father.  Doubtless  the  parting  would  be  some- 
what painful  on  both  sides,  and  it  was  the  last ;  for, 
though  they  survived  many  years,  he  never  saw  either 
of  his  parents  again.  Henceforth  melior  fortuna 
farente  might  have  been  his  motto.  Perhaps  antici- 
pations of  splendid  success  in  store  for  him  mingled 
with  the  anxiety  which  they  would  naturally  feel  at 
his  being  thus  launched  on  the  world  ;  and,  with  all 
chances  against  him,  Murray  realized  the  most  san- 
guine dreams  which  parental  affection  could  pos.sibly 
have  led  them  to  indulge  in. 

Resuming  his  way,  the  young  hero  reached  Gretna 
Green,  with  as  mixed  emotions  as  many  who  have 
since  halted  there  to  enact  in  haste  a  scene  to  be 
repented  of  at  leisure.  Here  he  staid  for  the  night ; 
and,  spurring  on  next  day,  was  struck  with  surprise 
at  the  fortifications  of  Carlisle,  which  in  a  few  years 
inspired  with  very  different  feelings  those  Scotch 
cousins  whom  he  was  called  upon,  as  Solicitor-Gen- 
eral, to  prosecute  for  treason  against  King  George. 
Pursuing  his  course,  he  arrived  at  his  destination  in 
safety  on  the  8tb  of  May,  and  was  received  with 


BOYHoOD  OF  LORD  MANSFIELD.  101 

great  kindness  by  a  thriving  apothecary,  who  hav- 
ting,  ike  the  pony  that  had  carried  the  young  adven- 
turer, been  born  and  bred  on  the  Stormont  estate,  was 
all  anxiety  to  be  of  service  to  a  scion  of  the  renowned 
family.  This  man  assisted  him  to  dispose  of  his  nag, 
advanced  money  to  attire  him  in  fitting  costume, 
installed  him  with  the  head-master  of  Westminster 
School,  and  lodged  him  with  a  trustworthy  dame  in 
its  vicinity. 

Thus  situated,  Murray  applied  himself  with  exem- 
plary steadiness  to  his  books.  The  schoolboys  were 
at  first  inclined  to  laugh  at  and  mimic  his  accent, 
and  torment  him  with  the  customary  jokes  about  his 
impoverished  country  ;  but  he  at  once  repelled  them 
with  that  calm,  proud  dignity,  against  which,  more 
than  half  a  century  later  the  vehement  and  sounding 
billows  of  Lord  Chatham's  splendid  eloquence  exert- 
ed and  exhausted  their  utmost  force  in  vain.  The 
school,  luckily  for  our  hero,  never  had  been  in  a  bet- 
ter condition  than  when  he  entered  it.  The  number 
of  boys  was  five  hundred ;  their  daily  instructors 
were  eminent  scholars,  and  they  were  examined  at 
elections  by  Bishops  Atterbury  and  Smalridge.  The 
emulation  incited  was  great  beyond  all  precedent ; 
and  Murray's  talents  soon  shone  conspicuously.  He 
took  infinite  pains  to  excel  in  his  declamations,  and 
thus  laid  the  foundation  of  that  felicitous  oratory,  by 
which  he  rose  to  the  highest  honors  of  his  profession, 
excited  and  swayed  one  house  of  Parliament,  and 


106  LAWYERS. 

charmed  and  graced  the  other.  His  success  in  clas« 
sical  studies  was  also  striking ;  and,  at  the  end  of  a 
year,  he  was  worthily  elected  a  King's  Scholar, 
though  perhaps  indebted  for  being  so  to  the  Jacobite 
influence  used  in  his  behalf 

During  one  of  the  vacations,  having  availed  him- 
self of  an  invitation  to  spend  his  time  at  Lady  Kin- 
noul's  house,  she  observing  him  with  a  pen  in  his 
hand,  and  apparently  in  deep  meditation,  inquired  if 
he  was  writing  his  theme,  and  what,  in  plain  En- 
glish it  was. 

"  What's  that  to  you  ?"  was  the  ready  reply. 

"  How  can  you  be  so  rude  ?"  demanded  her  aston- 
ished ladyship.  'I  asked  you  very  civilly  a  plain 
question,  and  did  not  expect  from  a  schoolboy,  so 
pert  an  answer. 

"  Indeed  my  lady  !"  was  the  rejoinder  ;  "  I  can 
only  assure  you  once  more.  What  is  that  to  you  ?" 
The  theme  being  in  reality  Quid  ad  te  j)ertinct  ? 

At  the  election  in  May,  1723,  afier  a  rigorous 
examination,  he  made  good  at  Westminster  the  prom- 
ise he  had  given  at  Perth,  and  was  first  on  the  list  of 
King's  Scholars  who  were  to  be  sent  on  that  found- 
ation to  Christ  Church  :  but  his  prospects  were  at 
this  time  unexpectedly  and  sadly  overcast.  Con 
sidering  himself  destined  for  the  bar,  he  had  been, 
m  the  habit  of  visiting  Westminster  Hall,  and  hear- 
ing the  most  eminent  pleaders,  and  in  fact  believed 
himself  to  have,  as  he  himself  expressed  it,  "  a  call- 


BOYHOOD  OF  LORD  MANSFIELD.      lO" 

ing  for  the  profession  of  the  law  ;"  but  h.s  father, 
finding  that  the  expense  of  a  legal  education  was 
more  than  he  could,  without  great  inconvenience, 
afford,  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  there  was  no 
other  course  open  for  him  than  to  take  orders  in  the 
Church.  Murray  felt  the  necessity  of  this,  but  he 
fait  it  with  sorrow,  and  respectfully  bowed  to  a  de- 
cision which  he  could  not  decorously  attempt  to  con- 
trol. However,  having  about  the  time  of  his  removal 
to  Oxford  casually  mentioned  his  disappointment  to 
one  of  his  friends,  a  son  of  the  first  Lord  Foley,  that 
nobleman  at  whose  country  house  Murray  had  spent 
some  of  his  holidays,  being  aware  of  his  remarkable 
genius,  and  desirous  that  it  should  have  a  fair  stage, 
kindly  encouraged  him  to  enter  upon  a  legal  career, 
and  with  great  delicacy  volunteered  to  assist  him 
with  the  requisite  means  until  he  met  with  that 
success  which  he  believed  him  certain,  ere  long,  to 
command.  This  offer,  handsomely  and  generously 
made,  was  frankly  and  gratefully  accepted,  and  with 
the  consent  of  his  family,  Murray,  while  yet  an  un- 
dergraduate at  Oxford,  was  entered  at  Lincoln's  Inn, 
about  the  beginning  of  1724,  though  he  did  not  coni- 
mencie  keeping  his  terms  till  he  had  taken  his  bache- 
lor's degree. 

He  remained  at  Oxford  four  years,  during  which 
he  pursued  his  studies  with  the  view  of  qualifying 
for  the  chosen  profession  he  was  so  brilliantly  to 
adorn.     Avoiding  the  temptations  of  Port,   which 


108  LAWYERS. 

were  all  too  strong  Ibr  some  of  liis  able  but  impru 
dent  contemporaries,  he  manifested  great  regularity 
in  his  attendance  at  chapel  and  lecture,  and  devoted 
himself  with  exemplary  ardor  to  oratory — the  charm- 
ed weapon  with  which  he  was  to  accomplish  his  tri- 
umphs over  men  and  fortune.  In  1727  his  future 
antagonist,  Pitt,  being  one  of  the  competitors,  he 
gained  the  prize  for  a  Latin  poem  on  the  death  of 
George  I.,  whose  praise  he  of  course  unhesitatingly 
sung,  notwithstanding  the  Jacobite  prepossessions 
which  he  had  imbibed  in  childhood.  It  is  improba- 
ble that,  after  arriving  at  manhood,  he  ever  allow- 
ed them  to  influence  his  fine  intellect,  except,  indeed, 
on  those  rare  occasions  when,  in  moments  of  excite- 
ment, old  associations  coming  round  him  in  their 
most  attractive  form,  he  gave  vent  to  sentiments  in  his 
expressions  that  were  afterward  unsparingly  and  un- 
fairly used  by  his  political  foes  as  instruments  of  attack. 

Having  taken  his  degree,  he  removed  to  Lincoln's 
Inn,  and  set  himself  with  earnestness  to  acquire  a 
knowledge  of  his  profession.  He  attended  a  debat- 
ing society,  where  points  of  law  were  discussed,  and 
frequented  the  courts  at  Westminster  for  the  pur- 
pose of  listening  to  the  judges.  In  1730  he  was 
called  to  the  bar,  to  which  he  brought  literary  taste, 
great  accomplishments,  extraordinary  eloquence,  and 
an  ardent  ambition  to  excel. 

Though  he  was  two  long  years  without  being 
en\])loY''<l   i"    <i"y  eause  of  importance,  neither  tho 


BOYHOOD  OP^  LORD  MANSFIELD.  iOi 

prospect  of  political  nor  literary  honors  could  st- 
iluce  him  from  allegiance  to  his  jealous  mistress. 
At  length  his  celebrated  speecPi  in  the  case  of  Gibber 
V.  Slopper  placed  him  above  all  rivals,  and  he  per- 
scveringly  pursued  his  first  forensic  success. 

In  1742  he  was  appointed  Solicitor-General,  and 
immediately  proved  himself  one  of  the  most  brilhant 
speakers  in  the  House  of  Commons,  where,  with  rare 
exceptional  cases,  he  was  found  fully  a  match  for 
the  first  Pitt.  "  They  alone,"  wrote  Lord  Chester- 
field, "  can  influence  or  quiet  the  House  ;  they  alone 
are  attended  to  in  that  numerous  and  noisy  assem- 
bly, that  you  might  hear  a  pin  fall  while  either  of 
them  is  speaking." 

In  1754  he  became  Attorney-General,  and  two 
years  after  was  created  a  peer,  and  raised  to  the  dig- 
nity of  Chief-Justice  of  the  King's  Bench.  He  held 
and  ornamented  the  latter  oflfice  till  1788,  when  he 
resigned  it  from  age  and  infirmity,  having  repeatedly 
declined  the  Great  Seal.  His  long,  prosperous,  and 
glorious  hfe  terminated  on  the  20th  of  March,  1793, 
and  his  remains  having  been  placed  in  Westminste? 
Abbey,  a  monument  was  erected  to  his  memory  b} 
a  client  for  whom  his  eloquence  had,  when  he  Avaa 
at  the  bar,  recovered  a  valuable  estate. 

The  life  of  this  illustrious  lawyer  is  fraught  with 
instruction  to  youth.  The  great  talents  Avith  which 
Providence  had  blessed  him  could  have  availed  littlci 
but  for  the  determination  and  diligence  with  which 


.  10  LAWYERS. 

he  cultivated,  improved,  and  exercised  them.  His 
original  position  was  certainly  rather  unfavorable 
than  otherwise  to  the  attainment  of  such  distinction 
as  he  acquired  ;  and  it  was  only  the  resolute  and 
untiring  energy  he  practiced  that  led  him  to  the 
elevation,  which  no  natural  abilities  will  ever  enable 
their  possessor  to  reach,  without  the  application  of 
the  great  and  vital  elem.ent  of  all  true  success — in- 
domitable perseverance. 


BOYHOOD  OF  LORD  ELDON. 

An  Englishman  of  strong  and  independent  nature 
who,  without  unduly  courting  the  powerful,  has  by 
unceasing  industry  raised  himself  to  honor  and  dis- 
tinction in  the  state,  is  ever  regarded  by  posterity 
with  respect  and  veneration.  Few  of  our  lawyers 
have  played  a  more  conspicuous  part  in  public  aflairs 
than  Lord  Eldon  ;  and  fewer  still  have  labored  with 
similar  assiduity  to  attain  the  position  that  enabled 
him  to  oxcrcifec  an  influence  on  the  opinions  and 
feelings  of  the  nation.  The  son  of  a  hoastman  of 
Newcastle,  and  the  grandson  of  a  yeoman  of  the 
Sandgate,  he  was  precipitated  by  an  early  marriage 
into  a  profession  toward  which  he  had  little  inclina- 
lion  ;  yet,  by  hard  study  and  unspared  faculties,  ho 
ro.^c  to  its  liighcst  honors,  ar.d  obtained  its  highcol 
ro  wa  rds 


BOYHOOD  OF  LORD  ELDON.        Hi 

John  Scott  was  born  on  the  4th  of  June,  1751, 
at  Love  Lane,  Newcastle-on-Tyne,  whei'e  his  father 
was  a  general  trader,  his  chief  business  being  that  of 
a  coal- fitter.  He  was  a  man  of  no  inconsiderable 
substance,  as  the  fortune  he  was  enabled  to  leave 
to  his  family  sufficiently  proves,  and  according  to  all 
accounts  a  freeman  of  high  repute.  His  wife  was 
characterized  at  once  by  her  excellence  in  the  domes- 
tic virtues,  and  by  the  superiority  of  her  understand- 
ing, which  have  been  thought  to  account,  in  some 
measure,  for  the  abilities  that  raised  two  of  her  sons 
to  such  honorable  and  distinguished  positions.  The 
future  chancellor's  life  was  imperiled  almost  in  his 
infancy,  from  his  falling  down  a  flight  of  stairs  in  a 
go-cart ;  and  he  was  only  saved,  apparently,  by  that 
good  fortune  which  attended  him  throughout  his 
career.  At  an  early  age  he  was  sent  to  receive  his 
first  instructions  from  a  person  well  known  and  long 
remembered  in  the  town  by  the  honorable  appellation 
of  Dominie  Warden,  his  next  teacher  being  the  Rev. 
Hugh  Moiscs,  master  of  the  Newcastle  Grammar- 
School,  Avho  was  quite  absorbed  in  his  instructive  pur- 
suits, and  zealously  devoted  to  the  improvement  and 
welfare  of  his  pupils.  This  worthy,  though  he  was  flir 
from  sparing  the  rod,  inspired  his  scholars  with  so 
much  esteem,  that  his  memory  was  held  by  them  in 
considerable  veneration.  The  teacher  of  mathema- 
tics was  no  less  a  person  than  the  afterward  cele- 
brated  Professor  Hutton ;  and  one  of  .John   Scott's 


112  LAWYERS. 

class-fellows  was  a  pretty  and  gentle  boy  destined  to 
add  fresh  glory  to  his  country's  renown,  whom  fame 
is  now  proud  to  claim  as  Lord  Collingwood.  Scott 
was  one  of  the  most  diligent  scholars,  and  greatest 
favorites  with  the  master,  who  frequently  held  him 
up  to  his  associates  as  a  model  for  imitation  ;  but 
this  did  not,  as  sometimes  unfortunately  happens, 
render  him  in  the  slightest  degree  unpopular  among 
the  other  boys,  with  whom,  on  the  contrary,  he  was 
in  great  favor.  In  fact,  though  he  practiced  much 
of  the  application  which  distinguished  his  after  years, 
he  seems  to  have  always  relished  a  frolic  ;  and  used 
to  relate  his  juvenile  adventures,  in  this  respect, 
with  much  merriment  to  the  close  of  his  life.  In 
those  days  the  short-cake  of  Chester-le-Street  pre- 
sented to  the  youthful  inhabitants  of  Newcastle  an 
irresistible  temptation  ;  and  one  fine  afternoon  he 
secretly  undertook  a  journey  thither,  a  distance  of 
some  miles,  on  foot,  accompanied  by  his  younger 
brother.  Loitering  about  till  evening  set  in,  they 
were  met  by  a  friend  of  their  father,  who  thinking 
that  it  Wis  much  too  late  for  such  young  travelers 
to  return  home,  considerately  took  them  to  his  house 
and  kept  them  all  night.  Meantime  the  family  in 
Love  Lane  were  seized  with  dread  at  their  unac- 
countable disappearance,  and  had  the  town  searched, 
but  in  vain.  Next  morning  the  crier,  bell  in  hand, 
proclaimed  through  every  street  that  the  young 
Scotts  were  my.stcriously  missing,  without  obtaininj 


BOYHOOD  OF  LORD  ELDON.  115 

tho  slightest  intelligence  in  regard  to  them.  At 
length,  tired  with  their  journey,  they  arrived  at 
their  father's  door ;  and  the  worthy  hoastrnan,  hav- 
ing administered  a  sound  whipping,  sent  them  to 
s.'hool,  where  Mr.  Moises  marked  his  displeasure  by 
?  similar  castigation.  On  another  occasion,  Master 
J  ackey,  as  he  was  then  styled,  was  the  seventeenth 
boy  flogged  for  a  most  ungallant  piece  of  behavior. 
They  had  surrounded  an  elderly  lady  in  the  street, 
and  would  not  allow  her  to  go  either  back  or  for- 
ward. She  applied  for  redress  to  the  master,  who, 
having  vigorously  done  his  duty  to  the  other  delin- 
quents, exclaimed,  as  he  arrived  at  the  seventeenth 
and  last — 

"What!  Jack  Scott,  were  you  there,  tool" 

The  agitated  criminal  pleaded  guilty. 

"  I  will  not  stop,"  said  the  persevering  flagellant  • 
"  you  shall  all  have  it !"  But  his  former  exertions 
had  considerably  weakened  the  force  with  which  tho 
strokes  descended,  and  "Master  Jackey"  congratu- 
lated himself  on  having  got  off'  more  easily  than  hig 
comrades. 

It  has  been  remarked,  that  neither  at  school  nor 
college  was  Lord  Eldon  one  of  those  "  demure  boys" 
denounced  by  Falstaff';  and  some  amusing  anecdotes 
are  related,  which  would  fully  vindicate  him  from 
any  such  charge  as  that  of  being  deficient  in  tho 
spirit  of  mischief 

His  father  agreed  with  a  writing-master,  to  teach 
H 


114  LAWYERS. 

him  for  half-a-guinea  a  quarter,  during  which  he  con- 
fesses to  having  never  attended  but  once.  At  the 
expiration  of  that  time  he  waa  sent  to  pay  the 
master,  but  the  latter  declared  ne  could  not,  with 
propriety,  receive  the  money,  as  he  had  given  nothing 
in  exchange.  The  young  truant,  however,  insisted 
upon  his  taking  it,  as  he,  with  truth,  stated  that  he 
durst  not  carry  it  back  to  his  father. 

"  Well,"  said  the  master,  "  if  I  am  to  take  it,  at 
all  events  I  must  give  something  for  it.  So  come 
here."  On  the  other  going  close  up  to  him,  he  took 
the  money  in  one  hand,  and  applied  the  other  to 
Master  Jack's  ear  with  a  force  which  dashed  him 
Hgainst  the  wainscot. 

Between  school-hours  the  boys  were  in  the  habit 
of  riding  on  the  grave-stones  in  St.  John's  Church- 
yard. One  day  when  they  were  thus  delightfully 
en"a""ed,  the  cry  suddenly  arose  that  Moises  was 
coming ;  and  Jack  being,  as  usual,  among  them, 
made  a  desperate  plunge  down  some  steps  leading  to 
the  school,  just  in  the  nick  of  time  to  run  against  a 
pudding,  which  a  maid-servant  was  taking  to  the 
bakehouse,  lie  was  obliged  to  borrow  a  comj)anion'a 
great-coat  to  cover  the  mark  it  left.  But,  what  was 
worse,  he  had  lost  his  hat  in  the  scramble  ;  and  his 
father  was  so  extremely  enraged  at  the  whole  aflair 
that  he  ordered  liim  to  go  without  one  till  the  cus 
ternary  time  for  taking  his  best  into  every-day  wear 
Thus  the  future  noble  and  learned  occupant  of  tb» 


BOYHOOD  OF  LORD  ELDON.        Ut 

woolsack  was  forced  to  go  without  a  hat  for  three 
months,  Sundays  excepted.  The  next  scrape  was 
still  more  serious,  being  nothing  less  than  robbing  an 
orchard,  then  deemed  by  schoolboys  rather  an  honor- 
able exploit.  After  performing  it,  he  had  just  gone 
to  bed,  when  a  complaint  on  the  subject  was  lodged 
with  his  father,  who  immediately  came  to  accuse 
him  of  the  offense;  but,  though  his  coat  was  lying 
close  by  full  of  apples,  and  he  was  suffering  internal 
torture  from  those  he  had  eaten,  he  boldly  denied  the 
charge.  However,  this  did  not  save  him  from  the 
double  punishment  consequent  on  all  such  misdemean- 
ors ;  for  he  relates  that  the  taws  of  his  father  and  the 
rod  of  Moises  were  applied  with  their  wonted  whole- 
some and  salutary  severity. 

Nevertheless,  ere  long  he  was  again  engaged  in 
orchard-robbing  with  two  of  his  companions.  This 
time  they  were  taken  before  a  magistrate,  who,  for 
the  offense,  fined  each  of  their  fathers  thirty  shillings 
— a  penalty  which  sat  lightly  on  the  future  chancel 
lor  ;  though  he  seems  to  have  been  more  alive  to  the 
inconvenience  of  a  sharp  scourging,  which  his  father 
inflicted,  preparatory  to  handing  him  over  to  the 
more  experienced  Moises,  who,  as  instructed,  com 
pleted  the  ceremony  in  due  form. 

One  day  Scott  met  v/ith  an  accident  which  threat 
ened  to  prove  fatal.  Falling  back  from  a  window- 
eeat  in  the  school-room  against  a  bench,  he  was  so  se- 
verely cut  in  the  head  that  his  intellect,  and  even  hia 


116  LAWYERS. 

life,  were  for  some  time  thouglit  in  danger.  The  in- 
dentation caused  by  the  wound  remained  to  the  end 
of  his  hfe.  On  another  occasion,  being  curious  to  see 
what  was  within  a  window,  beneath  the  stone  steps 
of  a  house,  he  incautiously  thrust  his  head  between 
the  iron  rails,  and  was  unable  to  draw  it  out,  till 
assisted  by  a  female  beggar,  who,  happening  to  pass, 
extricated  him  from  this  dilemma. 

In  the  midst  of  all  his  gay  pranks  and  mischievous 
enterprises,  he  had  made  no  small  progress  in  his 
daily  studies  ;  and,  when  in  his  fifteenth  year,  was 
not  only  a  good  classical  scholar,  but  well  skilled  in 
the  somewhat  rare  accomplishment  of  Enghsh  com- 
position. E-eligious  exercises  were  strictly  attended  to 
by  Mr.  Moises,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  marching  to 
church  on  Sundays,  with  all  due  pomp,  circumstance, 
and  formality,  at  the  head  of  his  boys  ;  and  Scott,  on 
being  examined  by  his  father  on  the  sermon  he  had 
heard,  was  always  able  in  the  evening  to  enter  into 
the  minutiae  of  the  discourse,  and  even  to  repeat  the 
very  phrase  used  by  the  preacher,  thus  giving  early 
proof  of  those  powers  of  memory  that  afterward  reared 
his  mighty  learning. 

His  juvenile  accomplishments  certainly  were  vari- 
ous, for  when,  on  Christmas-day,  the  elder  Scott  gave 
a  supper  and  dance  to  the  bargemen  whom  he  em- 
ployed, the  future  Lord  Eldon  was  in  the  habit  of 
dancing  a  hornpipe  for  their  amusement.  Indeed, 
he  appears  to  have  taken  great  delight  in  the  dancing- 


BOYHOOD  OF  LORD  ELDON.  117 

school,  and  used  afterward  to  dwell  on  the  scenes  en 
acted  there  with  much  complacency.  The  young 
ladies  were  in  the  habit  of  bringing  their  dancing- 
shoes  with  them,  and  it  was  considered  a  proper,  and 
no  doubt  a  pleasant,  piece  of  etiquette  to  assist  the 
prettier  of  the  girls  in  putting  them  on  Then,  early 
on  the  Sunday  mornings,  the  joyous  and  enamored 
youths  used  to  pilfer  flowers  frona  the  gardens  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Forth,  to  present  tp  their  sweet- 
hearts. "Oh  I"  exclaimed  Lord  Eldon,  as  he  glow- 
ed with  the  pleasures  of  retrospection,  after  having 
held  the  Great  Seal  for  a  quarter  of  a  century, 
"those  were  happy  days — we  were  always  in  love 
then  I"  Indeed,  in  boyood,  and  especially  in  love 
affairs,  the  future  sage  of  the  law  showed  no  signs 
of  being  troubled  with  the  doubts  and  hesitations 
that  in  later  years  haunted  and  perplexed  him  in  the 
Court  of  Chancery.  On  the  contrary  he  seems  to  have 
acted,  in  good  time,  and  at  all  hazards,  on  the  advice 
of  the  poet : 

"  Quid  sit  futurum  eras,  fuge  quaerere  ;   et 
Quern  sors  dierum  cunque  dabit,  lucro 
Appone;   nee  dulces  amores 
Sperne,  puer,  neque  tu  choreas  ; 

Donee  virenti  canities  abest 
Morosa." 

It  appears  that  a  Miss  AUgood  was  the  first  object 
of  his  attachment ;  but  she,  according  to  his  own 
account,  was  scornful.     He  was,  however,  sufficiently 


118  LAWYERS. 

susceptible  of  tender  impressions  to  find  consolation  in 
the  attractive  charms  of  less  contemptuous  damsels. 

Meanwhile,  his  eldest  brother  William,  afterward 
BO  eminently  distinguished  as  Lord  Stowell,  had,  in 
his  sixteenth  year,  obtained  a  scholarship  at  Corpus 
Christi  College,  Oxford,  and  pursued  his  first  triumph 
so  successfully,  that  in  1766,  when  the  father  wrote 
to  notify  his  intention  of  making  the  youngest  son  a 
coal-fitter,  he  requested  that  the  latter  might  be  sent 
up  to  him.  Accordingly,  in  the  beginning  of  May, 
our  hero  was  packed  oft'  in  the  London  coach,  and, 
after  being  three  nights  and  four  days  on  the  road, 
was  received  at  the  White  Horse,  in  Fetter  Lane, 
by  his  brother,  who  took  him  to  see  the  play  at  Drury 
Lane,  which  seems  to  have  interested  him  much. 
On  the  15th  of  the  same  month  he  was  matriculated 
as  a  member  of  the  University  of  Oxford  by  the  Vice- 
Chancellor,  having  that  day  been  entered  as  a  Com- 
moner of  University  College.  He  had  not  then  com- 
pleted his  fifteenth  year,  and  looked  still  so  much 
more  juvenile  than  he  really  was,  tbat  the  elder 
brother  was,  to  use  his  own  expression,  quite  ashamed 
sf  his  boyish  appearance. 

During  the  long  vacation  his  father  judiciously 
put  him  once  more  under  the  charge  of  Mr.  Moises 
which  seems  to  have  been  felt  as  a  sad  wound  to  hia 
lately  acquired  dignity.  This  was  not  at  all  salved 
by  his  preceptor  expecting  great  things  from  him,  on 
account  of  his  having  been  a  short  while  at  Oxford, 


BOYHOOD  OF  LORD  ELDON.  .19 

nor  by  the  name  of  the  "  Oxonian,"  which  seems  tc 
have  been  apphed  rather  in  derision  than  honor,  and 
adopted  by  the  whole  of  his  Newcastle  acquaintances. 

In  the  following  year  he  was  elected  to  a  fellow- 
ship, and  in  1770  took  his  bachelor's  degree.  The 
examination,  he  used  to  say,  was  a  farce  in  his  time, 
and  he  gave  the  following  account  of  it : 

"  I  was  examined  in  Hebrew  and  in  History. 
'  What  is  the  Hebrew  for  the  place  of  a  skull?'  I 
replied,  '  Golgotha.'  '  Who  founded  University  Col- 
lege ?'  I  stated  (though,  by  the  way,  the  point  ia 
sometimes  doubted),  '  that  King  Alfred  founded  it.' 
'Very  well,  sir,'  said  the  examiner,  'you  are  com- 
petent for  your  degree.'" 

In  1771  he  carried  off  the  Chancellor's  prize  for 
the  best  composition  in  English  prose ;  the  subject 
of  his  essay  being  "  The  Advantages  and  Disadvant- 
ages of  Foreign  Travel."  His  modesty  on  the  occa- 
sion was  so  excessive,  that  he  had  actually  to  be 
taken  by  the  shoulders  and  pushed  into  the  Shelden 
Theatre,  by  the  future  Bishop  of  Clonfert,  when  the 
latter  had  recited  his  prize  poem.  This  achievement 
was  the  cause  of  great  joy  to  his  old  instructor,  who, 
entering  the  school,  with  the  essay  aloft  in  his  hand, 
said,  in  a  tone  of  triumph,  to  the  senior  boys,  "  See 
what  John  Scott  has  done  I"  His  favorite  pupil  was 
shortly,  much  to  his  old  instructor's  grief,  to  bear 
away  a  prize  more  charming  still,  and  for  which  tha 
competitors  were  not  innumerous. 


(20  LAWYERS. 

In  1 772,  being  then  in  his  twenty-second  year,  he 
fell  so  seriously  and  deeply  in  love  with  Miss  Surtees, 
the  "  Newcastle  Beauty,"  that,  hourly  apprehensive 
of  seeing  her  forced  into  a  union  with  a  wealthy 
rival,  he,  much  to  the  surprise  and  consternation  of 
the  whole  town,  ran  off  with  her  to  Scotland,  where 
they  were  married,  and,  as  every  one  concluded, 
ruined  for  life.  The  heroine  was  just  entering  her 
nineteenth  year,  and  looked  very  much  younger  from 
her  style  of  dress,  and  the  ringlets  that  flowed  around 
her  fair  shoulders.  She  was  extremely  beautiful  and 
attractive,  both  in  form  and  face  ;  and  her  appearance 
is  reported  to  have  been,  on  the  whole,  so  captivating 
as,  in  the  opinion  of  even  staid  persons  and  severe 
critics  of  female  merit,  to  have  furnished  the  hero 
with  at  least  one  apology  for  the  hasty  and,  at  first 
sight  imprudent,  step  which  terminated  the  romance 
of  his  life.  Both  families  were,  at  first,  greatly  per- 
plexed and  chagrined  at  the  occurrence  ;  but  the 
honest  heart  of  the  old  hoastman  soon  so  far  relented, 
that  he  gave  the  youthful  couple  an  invitation  to  hiis 
house,  which,  of  course,  was  gladly  accepted  ;  and 
he  afterward  obtained  the  co-operation  of  Mr.  Sur- 
tees, who  was  a  wealthy  banker,  in  a  scheme  for 
their  maintenance.  The  bridegroom,  however,  was  of 
course  obliged  to  relinquish  his  fellowship  at  Oxford  ; 
but  he  was  allowed  a  year  of  grace,  during  which 
he  had  the  option  of  accepting  any  college  living  that 
might  conr.e  to  liss  turn.     With  a  view  of  bavins 


BOYHOOD  OF  LORD  ELDON.  121 

two  strings  to  his  bow,  he  began  the  study  of  the 
law  ;  but  the  church,  as  he  said,  was  his  first  mistress, 
and  it  was  not  till  all  hope  of  a  college-living  had 
vanished,  that  he  betook  himself  earnestly  to  the 
studies  appertaining  to  that  profession,  with  which 
his  name  is  now  so  indestructibly  associated.  Thus 
the  marriage,  which  seemed  likely  to  involve  him  in 
irretrievable  ruin,  proved,  in  the  end,  the  means  of 
his  achieving  great  success  and  enduring  fame. 

Excited  only  by  the  prospect  of  far-distant  success 
and  cheered  and  sustained  in  his  arduous  toil  by  her 
for  whom  he  had  sacrificed  learned  leisure,  he  labor- 
ed with  unremitting  and  wonderful  devotion  to  his 
new  pursuits.  In  December,  1775,  he  removed  from 
Oxford  to  London,  and,  in  the  following  February, 
was  called  to  the  bar.  At  first  he  was  not  so  suc- 
cessful as  he  had  anticipated ;  but  his  unrivaled  in- 
dustry speedily  overcame  all  obstacles.  In  1788  he 
became  Solicitor-General,  and  was,  somewhat  against 
his  will,  honored  with  knighthood.  In  1793  he  was 
promoted  to  be  Attorney-General.  In  1799  he  was 
appointed  Chief-Justice  of  the  Common  Pleas,  and 
created  a  peer  by  the  title  of  Baron  Eldon,  of  Eldon. 
In  1801  he  became  Lord  Chancellor,  and  held  the 
Great  Seal,  with  a  short  interval,  till  1827.  Havinnf 
been  advanced  to  the  rank  of  earl  in  1 821,  he  died  on 
the  13th  of  January,  1838,  in  the  eighty-seventh  year 
of  his  age,  after  having  long  and  conscientiously  de« 


122  LAWYERS. 

voted  himself  to  the  puhlic  service,  and  filled  a  largo 
and  important  space  in  the  public  eye. 

The  sense  of  duty  which  prompted  his  labors,  and 
the  extraordinary  industry  which  he  exhibited  in  pur* 
suing  them,  were  such  as  to  entitle  his  memory  to  the 
utmost  respect ;  while  the  high  rank  and  distinction 
to  which  they  were  the  means  of  elevating  him,  the 
confidence  which  was  reposed  in  him  by  his  sovereign 
and  his  country,  and  the  veneration  which  is  now 
rendered  to  his  name  by  political  friends  and  foes, 
are,  in  an  eminent  dgree,  calculated  to  animate  the 
ambitious  youth  to  emulate  the  integrity  he  mani- 
fested, and  to  imitate  the  labor  he  underwent  in  liia 
''truggles  for  fame  and  fortune. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
y  I)iiantl)r0^]ist0. 


BOYHOOD   OF  WILBERFORCE. 

The  family  to  which  this  illustrious  philanthro- 
pist belonged  claimed  to  have  been  settled,  as  early  aa 
the  reign  of  Henry  the  Second,  at  Wilberfoss,  in  the 
county  of  York,  where  they  enjoyed  considerable  pos- 
sessions. In  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
after  a  gradual  decline  in  wealth,  one  of  the  represent- 
atives, leaving  the  ancestral  soil,  took  up  his  abode 
in  the  town  of  Beverley,  of  which  he  became  mayor. 
His  descendant,  William,  changed  the  spelling  of  the 
name  ;  and  a  second  son  of  the  latter,  a  partner  of  their 
mercantile  house  in  Hull,  was  father  of  the  distin- 
guished man  whose  earnest  eloquence  stirred  the  pub- 
lic feeling  of  Great  Britain  in  favor  of  the  oppressed 
African  race,  over  whom  the  slave-trade  was  then 
brooding  with  pestilential  horrors.  William  Wilber- 
force  was  born  on  the  feast  of  St.  Bartholomew,  24th 
of  August,  1759,  the  third  of  four  children;  but  of 
his  three  sisters,  the  second  only  survived  to  years  of 


•24  PHILAN'I  HilOPlSTS. 

maturity,  and  became  the  wife  of  Mr.  Stephen,  9 
zealous  auxiliary  in  the  cause    of  negro    freedom. 
From  infancy,  he  was  feeble  of  frame  and  small  of 
stature.     He  used,  in  after  years,  to  express  his  grat- 
itude at  not  having  been  born  in  less  civilized  times, 
when  it  would  have  been  considered  impossible  tc 
rear  so  delicate  a  child  ;  but  he  had,  from  the  first, 
a  vigorous  mind,  and  a  most  gentle  and  affectionate 
heart.     What  was  more,  an  unusual  thoughtful nesa 
for  others  marked  his  earliest  years,  and  gave  presago 
of  that  career  of  active  benevolence  which  was  to  pro- 
duce results  so  important  and  beneficial  on  the  desti- 
nies of  the  human  race.     A  frequent  guest  at  his 
mother's  never  forgot  how  he  would  steal  into  her 
sick-room,  taking  off  his  little  shoes  lest  he  should  dis- 
turb her,  an  J,  with  an  anxious  face,  peer  through  the 
curtains  to  learn  if  she  was  better.     His  aged  grand- 
sire,  though  his  landed  possessions  were  by  no  means 
small,  continued  to  the  last  in  the  Baltic  trade,  and 
was  a  man  known  and  respected  for  his  talent  and 
integrity.      He  had   seen  much  of  life  ;    had  been 
acquainted  with  the  great  Duke   of    Marlborough, 
when    that  mighty    general    was   commanding    the 
allied   army  on  the  Continent ;   and   had  displayed 
becoming  military  ardor  when  the  arsenal  of  Hull 
was  prepared  for  an  expected  attack  of  the  Scottish 
insurgents,  in  1745.     His  tales  of  travel  and  adven- 
ture were  thus  well  calculated  to  charm  the  ear  of 
his  grandson,  and  to  implant  in  his  young  breast  that 


BOYHOOD  OF  WILBERFORCE.  125 

desire  of  knowledge  which  subsequently  animated 
him. 

At  seven  years,  Wilberforce  was  sent  to  the  gram- 
mar school  at  Hull,  of  Avhich  Joseph  Milner  soon 
after  became  master.  The  latter  had  as  assistant 
his  younger  brother,  afterward  the  celebrated  Dean 
of  Carlisle,  to  the  influence  of  whose  extraordinary 
colloquial  powers  might,  perhaps,  be  in  some  mea- 
sure ascribed  those  social  accomplishments  which 
made  Madam  de  Stael  declare  Wilberforce  the  most 
eloquent  and  wittiest  converser  she  had  met  in  En- 
gland. Even  then  Wilberforce's  elocution  was  con- 
sidered so  remarkable,  that  they  were  in  the  habit  of 
placing  him  on  a  table  and  making  him  read  aloud 
as  an  example  to  the  other  boys.  He  spent  two 
years  at  this  school,  going  daily  from  his  father's 
house  with  a  satchel  on  his  back,  except  when  he 
visited  his  grandfather  at  Ferriby,  a  pleasant  village 
on  the  Humber.  In  the  summer  of  1768  his  father 
died  ;  and,  after  a  few  weeks'  residence  at  Netting 
ham,  the  young  philanthrophist  was  transferred  to 
the  care  of  an  uncle,  with  whom  he  went  to  live  at 
Wimbledon  and  St.  James's  Place,  London.  The 
former  residence  afterward  became  his  own,  and  was 
dignified  with  the  frequent  visits  of  Mr.  Pitt,  when 
that  great  minister  exchanged  the  cares  of  state  for 
the  luxurious  ease  and  country  air  which  the  place 
afforded. 

Wilberforce  was  in  a  short  time  sent  to  a  school, 


126  PHILANTHROPISTS. 

which  apparently,  being  of  no  very  high  charactei 
did  not  afterward  furnish  any  very  agreeable  remin 
iscences.  The  master  was  a  Scotchman,  and  had 
an  usher  of  the  same  nation,  whose  red  beard — for 
it  was  scarcely  shaved  once  a  month — made  a  lasting 
impression  on  his  memory.  The  pupils  were  taught 
Latin,  French,  Arithmetic,  and  a  little  Greek.  Wil- 
berforce  was  a  parlor-boarder,  and,  late  in  life,  re- 
membered with  a  shudder,  that  the  food  with  which 
he  was  supplied  was  so  nauseous  that  he  could  not 
eat  it  without  a  feeling  of  sickness.  The  two  years 
of  his  sojourn  there  had  something  of  variety  im- 
parted to  them  by  the  visits  he  paid  to  Nottingham 
and  Hull,  where  he  was  considered  a  fine  quick  lad, 
whose  activity  and  spirit  amply  made  up  for  some 
deficiency  of  physical  vigor.  On  one  of  these  occa- 
sions, a  brother  of  his  aunt  having  given  him  a  pres- 
ent much  exceeding  the  sum  usually  falling  into  a 
boy's  possession,  accompanied  it  with  an  injunction 
that  part  of  it  should  be  given  to  the  poor — an  inci- 
dent worthy  of  notice,  from  its  having  assisted,  in  his 
own  opinion,  to  form  that  character  which  afterward 
worthily  exercised  so  much  influence  on  his  fellow 
men  in  regard  to  beneficence  and  charity. 

When  he  quitted  Hull,  no  great  pains  had  been 
taken  to  form  his  religious  opinions,  but  in  hi? 
uncle's  house,  a  powerful  influence  was  at  work. 
His  aunt,  being  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  Whit- 
field's preaching,  kept  up  a  friendly  connection  with 


BOYHOOD  OF  WILBERFUllCE.  127 

the  early  Methodists,  and  communicated  a  tone  to 
the  mind  of  Wilberforce  which,  if  he  had  been  al* 
lowed  to  remain  with  his  uncle,  would  probably  have 
made  him  a  bigoted  Methodist,  and  excluded  him 
from  that  political  world  in  which  he  acted  so  promi- 
nent a  part,  and  wrought  deliverance  for  million3 
groaning  under  captivity.  Luckily  the  signs  of  his 
being  in  process  of  conversion  raised  the  suspicions  of 
his  relations.  "Billy,"  said  his  grandfather,  "shall 
travel  with  Milner  when  he  is  of  age  ;  but  if  Billy 
turns  Methodist,  he  shall  not  have  a  sixpence  of 
mine."  This  threat  would,  no  doubt,  quicken  the 
maternal  solicitude  of  Mrs.  Wilberforce,  a  woman 
of  great  and  cultivated  talents ;  and  she  forthwith 
repaired  to  London,  to  remove  him  from  the  perilous 
fascination.  His  aunt  frankly  expressed  her  regret 
that  he  should  thus  lose  the  opportunity  of  leading 
a  religious  life.  "You  should  not  fear,"  said  his 
mother,  with  a  severe  allusion  ;  "  If  it  be  a  work  of 
grace  you  know  it  can  not  fail." 

Wilberforce  was  almost  broken  hearted  at  having 
thus  to  part  from  his  uncle's  family.  He  had  been 
treated  by  its  heads  with  parental  affection.  "I  can 
never  forget  you  as  long  as  I  live,"  he  wrote  to  his 
uncle,  when,  at  the  age  of  twelve,  he  returned  to  his 
mother's  house,  to  be  launched  into  the  gay  and,  as 
he  thought,  frivolous  society  of  Hull.  The  theatre, 
balls,  suppers,  and  card-parties,  where  then  the  re- 
creation and  delight  of  the  town  ;  and  being  grand- 


128  PHILANTHROPISTS. 

son  of  one  of  the  principal  and  wealthiest  inhabit- 
ants, he  was,  of  course,  eagerly  invited  and  heartily 
welcomed  every  where.  His  love  of  music  and  his 
vocal  powers  made  him  a  still  more  acceptable  guest 
than  he  would  otherwise  have  been ;  and  though  the 
religious  impressions  he  had  received  at  Wimbledon 
jontinued  for  a  time  to  exercise  so  much  effect  on 
him,  that  when  first  taken  to  a  play  it  was  almost 
by  force,  the  allurements  of  worldly  pleasure  at  length 
led  his  thoughts  from  the  contemplation  of  serious 
matters,  and  gayety  and  amusement  became  congenial 
to  his  tastes  and  inchnations.  Still,  they  could  not 
efface  his  familiarity  with  sacred  Scripture  and  his 
habits  of  devotion. 

Soon  after  this,  he  was  placed  at  the  grammar- 
Bchool  of  Pocklington,  the  master  of  which,  a  man 
of  easy  and  polished  manners,  and  an  elegant,  if  not 
profound  scholar,  treated  Wilberforce  with  unusual 
Hberality,  and,  especially  during  the  latter  part  of  his 
stay,  made  the  very  smallest  demands  on  his  time. 
His  agreeable  qualifications  in  society,  and  his  great 
musical  skill,  rendered  him  always  a  most  welcome 
guest  at  the  houses  of  the  rural  gentry.  Neverthe- 
less, he  was  remarked  for  his  active  turn  of  mind  and 
superior  order  of  intellect ;  and  he  gave  proof  of  his 
early  abhorrence  of  the  slave-trade,  by  addressing  a 
letter,  at  the  age  of  fourteen,  to  the  editor  of  a  York 
paper,  in  condemnation  of  the  odious  traflic  in  hu- 
man flesh.     His  impressions,  thus  recorded,  were,  as 


BOYHOOD  OF  WILBERFORCE".  129 

it  soon  appeared,  deep  and  indelible.  He  did  not, 
with  all  his  engagements,  allow  his  taste  for  litera- 
ture to  remain  utterly  uncultivated.  On  the  contra- 
ry, he  is  said  to  have  excelled  the  other  boj's  in  the 
composition  of  the  required  exercises,  though  seldom 
beginning  his  task  till  the  latest  hour.  For  his  own 
gratification,  he  committed  English  poetry  to  memory. 
Beattie's  "Minstrel"  was  his  favorite  book,  and  learn- 
ed by  heart  during  his  morning  walks. 

Notwithstanding  all  his  habits  of  gayety,  he  went 
to  Cambridge  "  a  very  fair  scholar  ;"  and,  in  October, 
1776,  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  entered  at  St.  John's 
College.  Here  he  was  exposed  to  new  and  various 
temptations.  The  death  of  his  uncle  and  grandfather 
had  made  him  master  of  an  ample  fortune.  On  the 
very  first  night  after  his  arrival  he  was  introduced 
to  a  set  of  men  whose  character  he  paints  in  dismal 
colors,  and  seems  little  to  have  relished.  However, 
he  had  the  fortitude  to  shake  off  their  company  ;  as, 
in  after-life,  he  had  the  resolution  to  abstain  from 
gambling,  which  was,  with  rare  exceptions,  the  pre- 
vailing vice  among  the  men  whom  he  met  on  entering 
the  world  of  politics  and  fashion.  At  Cambridge  his 
animation  and  amiability  rendered  him  a  universal 
favorite ;  and  his  time,  which  should  have  been 
devoted  to  reading  hard  and  attending  lectures,  was 
spent  at  card-parties  and  other  places  of  similar 
amusement.  Yet  he  was  a  good  classic,  and  ac- 
quitted himself  with  credit  in  the  college  examiua- 
I 


130  PHILAN  rHROPISTS. 

tions  ;  but  mathematics  he  utterly  neglected,  being 
told  that  he  was  too  clever  to  require  them.  In 
vacation  times  his  idleness  was  exchanged  for  the  fes 
tivities  of  Hull,  or  for  pleasure  trips  with  his  mother 
and  sister.  On  leaving  Cambridge  he  had  to  accuse 
himself  of  having  neglected  opportunities  and  wasted 
time  ;  but,  otherwise,  his  conduct  was  reckoned  much 
better  than  that  of  young  men  in  general.  He  had 
made  the  valuable  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Pitt,  who 
was  preparing  himself,  by  severe  study,  for  that  ter- 
rible strife  he  was  soon  to  enter  upon.  Wilberforcc, 
also,  had  previously  resolved  to  betake  himself  to 
public  life  ;  and  his  ample  fortune  enabling  him  to 
pursue  his  wishes  in  this  respect,  he  commenced  a 
spirited  canvass  for  the  representation  of  his  native 
town  in  Parliament.  Some  hundreds  of  the  freemen 
resided  in  London  ;  and  going  thither  to  secure  their 
support,  he  first  acquired  confidence  in  public  speak- 
ing while  addressing  them.  He  likewise  frequented 
the  strangers'  gallery  of  the  House  of  Commons,  and 
there  again  met  Mr.  Pitt,  who  was  then  watching, 
as  a  spectator,  the  struggles  in  that  arena  in  which, 
ere  long,  he  was  to  be  one  of  the  most  successful 
combatants. 

At  the  general  election  of  1780  Wilberforcc  waa 
returned  for  Hull  by  a  large  majority,  having  then 
barely  completed  his  twenty-first  year. 

The  miseries  endured  by  the  African  race  had,  as 
we  have  seen,  long  before  attracted  his  attention,  and 


BOYHOOD  OF  WILBERFORCE.  131 

enlisted  his  sympathy  in  their  behalf;  but  the  system 
of  slavery  had  been  so  long  pursued  and  upheld,  that 
the  magnitude  of  the  difficulties  to  be  encountered  in 
any  effort  to  remove  "  the  dark  stain  that  disfigured 
the  fair  freedom  of  the  country,"  appalled  the  cour- 
age of  the  bravest.  It  baffled  even  the  genius  jf 
Burke,  who,  in  the  very  year  that  Wilberforee  took 
his  seat  in  Parliament,  had  sketched  a  code  of  regu 
lations,  which  provided  for  its  immediate  mitigation 
and  ultimate  suppression.  But,  after  mature  delib- 
eration, the  mighty  orator  and  statesman  abandoned 
the  project,  from  a  perfect  conviction  that  the  strength 
of  those  interested  in  its  maintenance  would  inevita- 
bly defeat  his  utmost  endeavors  Wilberforce,  how- 
ever, was  far  from  allowing  the  matter  to  fade  from 
his  memory.  This  very  year  he  wrote  to  a  friend 
going  to  Antigua,  requesting  him  to  collect  inforaia 
tion  relative  to  the  condition  of  the  slaves,  and  ex- 
pressing his  determination,  or  at  least  his  hope,  of 
some  day  having  it  in  his  power  to  redress  the  wrongs 
of  these  wretched  beings.  In  1787  he  became  their 
declared  and  devoted  champion,  and  henceforth  never 
slackened  his  philanthropic  efibrts  for  their  deliver- 
ance. In  1789  he  first  proposed  the  abolition  of  the 
slave-trade  in  the  House  of  Commons,  in  a  speech 
which  was  immortalized  by  the  eulogy  of  Burke. 
Early  in  1807  a  bill  was  introduced  and  carried  to 
effect  that  purpose,  after  which  he  directed  his  bat« 


132  PHILANTHROPISTS 

lery  against  the  continuance  of  slavery  itself.  Whilti 
representing  the  county  of  York,  he  attained  an  emi- 
nence never  before  reached  by  any  private  member 
of  Parliament ;  he  incessantly  watched  over  the  in- 
terests of  his  Afiican  clients;  and  survived  to  heai 
of  the  measure  of  emancipation  passing  the  House  of 
Commons.  In  introducing  it,  the  Colonial  Minister 
of  the  day  paid  this  graceful  and  affecting  tribute  to 
the  vi^orth  of  the  veteran  philanthropist : — "It  is  not 
without  the  deepest  emotion  I  recollect  that  there  is 
yet  living  one  of  the  earliest,  one  of  the  most  religious, 
one  of  the  most  conscientious,  one  of  the  most  elo- 
quent, one  of  the  most  zealous  friends  of  this  great 
cause,  who  watched  it  in  its  dawn.  Wilberforce 
still  remains  to  see,  I  trust,  the  final  consummation 
of  the  great  and  glorious  work  which  he  was  one  of 
the  first  to  commence,  and  to  exclaim,  '  Lord,  now  let 
thy  servant  depart  in  peace  I'  " 

He  expired  on  the  29th  of  July,  1833,  while  tht 
Act  was  passing.  Shortly  before  he  exclaimed  with 
fervor — "  Thank  God  that  I  should  have  lived  to 
witness  a  day  when  England  is  willing  to  give  twenty 
millions  sterling  for  the  abolition  of  slavery  I" 

The  announcement  of  his  death  was  received  by 
the  House  of  Commons,  of  which  he  had  sp  long  been 
a  most  distinguished  member,  with  peculiar  feeling. 
Mr.  Buxton  alluded  to  the  event  ■  and  in  expressing 
liis    love    and    reverence   for    tho    character    of  the 


BOYHOOD  OF  THOMAS  FOWELL  BUXTON.    133 

great  departed,  applied  to  him  the  beautiful  line*  jf 
Cowper  • 

"  A  veteran  warrior  in  the  Christian  field, 
"W  ho  never  saw  the  sword  he  could  not  w^  ild ; 
Who,  when  occasion  justified  its  use, 
Had  wit,  as  bright  as  ready  to  produce  ; 
Could  draw  from  records  of  an  earlier  age, 
Or  from  Philosophy's  enlightened  page, 
His  rich  material — and  regale  the  ear 
With  strains  it  was  a  luxury  to  hear." 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  THOMAS  FOWELL  BUXTON. 

This  worthy  and  wonderful  man  whose  careei 
well  merits  the  serious  attention,  and  study  of  all 
who  look  to  raising  themselves  in  the  world  by  the 
intellect  and  capacity  with  which  Providence  has 
blessed  them,  and  rendering  services  to  humanity, 
was  born  on  the  1st  of  April — a  somewhat  inauspi- 
cious day — in  the  year  1786,  at  Castle  Hedingham, 
in  Essex,  where  his  father,  the  High  Sheriff  of  the 
county,  was  then  residing  ;  though  his  usual  seat  was 
Earl's  Colne,  in  the  same  shire.  The  elder  Buxton 
was  a  man  of  a  gentle  and  kindly  disposition,  given 
to  field-sports,  and  highly  popular  in  the  neighborhood, 
distinguished  for  his  hospitality  and  for — what  was 
of  still  more  consequence — attention  to  relieving  the 
miseries  and  necessities  of  the  poor  and  needy.  He 
died   at  Earl's   Colne,  in   1792,  leaving  his  widow 


J34  PHILANTHROPISTS. 

with  three  sons  and  two  daughters.  This  lady,  t 
woman  of  energy,  intellect,  strong  faculties,  strong 
afiections,  and  apparently  a  little  eccentric,  telonged 
to  the  Society  of  Friends  ;  but  her  husband,  having 
been  a  member  of  the  Church,  and  her  sons  baptized 
accordingly,  she,  not  being  of  the  strictest  sect,  wisely 
and  meritoriously  refrained  from  exerting  her  influ- 
ence as  mother  and  guardian  to  bring  them  over  to 
her  persuasion.  She  strove  to  inspire  them  with  a 
profound  regard  for  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  to  im- 
plant in  them  a  high  standard  of  morality ;  but  ex- 
hibited no  particular  anxiety  to  see  them  distinguish- 
ed by  broad-brimmed  hats  and  buttonless  coats. 

It  was  said  of  Buxton  that  he  never  was  a  child- 
that  he  was  a  man  in  petticoats.  At  all  events,  he 
was  uncommonly  vigorous  in  his  early  days,  and 
showed  a  bold  and  determined  character.  On  one 
occasion,  being  requested  to  convey  a  message  to  a 
pig-driver  who  had  passed  along  the  road,  he  set  off 
in  pursuit,  and  though  one  of  his  shoes  was  swamped 
and  lost  in  the  mud,  continued  to  track  the  man  by 
the  footmarks  of  the  grunting  drove  through  intricate, 
miry  lanes,  for  nearly  three  miles,  and  never  halted 
till  he  had  overtaken  him  in  the  market-town  of 
Coggeshall  and  delivered  his  message.  At  the  age 
of  four  years  and  a  half  he  was  sent  to  school  at 
Kingston,  but  was  so  severely  treated,  and  so  sadly 
stinted  in  his  food,  that  his  health  gave  way,  and 
removal  was  the  consequenc«      This   was   shortly 


BOYHOOD  OF    THOMAS  FOWELL  BUXTON.    13S 

after  liis  father's  death,  and  led  to  his  being  sent  to 
Greenwich,  where,  so  far  from  having  hardships  to 
endure,  he  found  in  Dr.  Charles  Burney  a  most  kind 
and  judicious  master.  One  day  he  was  accused  by 
an  usher  of  talking  daring  school  time,  and  ordered 
to  learn  the  collect,  epistle,  and  gospel  as  a  punisk- 
ment.  When  Dr.  Burney  entered  the  school,  Bux- 
ton appealed  to  him  for  redress,  and  stoutly  denied 
the  charge.  The  usher  as  strongly  persisted  in  it ; 
but  Dr.  Burney  said,  "  No  I  1  never  found  that  boy 
tell  a  lie,  and  will  not  disbelieve  him  now." 

Buxton  describes  himself  as  having  been  in  boy- 
hood of  a  "  daring,  violent,  domineering  temper." 
When  this  characteristic  was  remarked  to  his  mother, 
"  Never  mind,"  she  replied,  "  he  is  self  willed  now  ; 
you  will  see  it  turn  out  well  in  the  end."  One 
of  his  schoolfellows,  Mr.  Twiss,  states  that  Buxton 
was  then,  as  in  after-life,  remarkable  for  the  tallness 
of  his  stature,  and  was  known  among  his  playmates 
as  "  Elephant  Buxton;"  but  that,  so  far  from  exhib- 
iting any  of  the  talent  which  afterward  distinguished 
him,  he  often  had  his  Latin  lessons  done  for  him  by 
his  friend,  whose  services  he  reciprocated  by  proving 
a  most  valuable  ally  and  faithful  protector  when  size, 
and  strength,  and  hard  knocks,  were  in  requisition 
Consequently,  he  did  not  make  much  progress  in  his 
studies ;  and  the  holidays  at  Earl's  Colne,  where  his 
mother  continued  to  reside,  left  a  more  enduring  im- 
pression on  him  than  the  time  spent  at  school      At 


J36  PHILANTHROPISTS. 

home  he  was  rather  encouraged  by  his  mother,  who 
treated  him  as  an  equal,  and  led  him  to  express  his 
opinions  without  reserve,  to  bear  himself  as  master 
of  the  family  ;  and  he  was  trained  by  the  gamekeeper, 
a  singular  character,  and  full  of  rural  knowledge, 
to  bold  and  hardy  habits  of  sportsmanship.  Thus 
situated,  he  learned  to  think  for  himself,  and  ac- 
quired a  kind  of  habitual  decision,  to  which  he  at- 
tributed much  of  his  success  in  life.  Moreover,  this 
gamekeeper,  though  he  could  neither  read  nor  write, 
had  much  natural  good  sense,  shrewdness,  humor, 
mother-wit,  and  a  rare  dexterity  in  placing  every 
thing  in  new  and  striking  lights.  His  feats  as  a 
horseman  were  marvelous.  He  taught  the  boys  to 
ride,  shoot,  and  fish ;  he  never  did  any  thing  in  the 
absence  of  their  mother  of  which  she  would  have 
disapproved  ;  and  he  impressed  on  their  young  minds 
sentiments  and  principles  of  the  highest,  most  honor- 
able, and  most  generous  nature,  with  all  the  simplici- 
ty, purity,  and  freshness  of  one  who  had  pursued  his 
meditations  among  green  fields,  rich  woods,  and  yel- 
low corn.  Under  the  auspices  of  this  rustib  worthy, 
whom  he  used  to  speak  of  as  his  "  first  tutor,"  Bux- 
ton, who  was  physically  well-fitted  for  the  proper  enjoy- 
ment of  country  amusements,  speedily  acquired  a  keen 
relish  for  hunting,  shooting,  and  fishing.  Through- 
out life  he  had  a  strong  fancy  for  dogs,  and  took 
great  delight  in  horses,  the  result,  perhaps,  of  this 
early    apprenticeship    to  field-sports.     Negroe*    bi"wI 


nOYHOUD  01^   'IHOMAS  FOWELL  BUXTON.     ]3^ 

pai'tridges  were,  to   the  last,  somewhat  grotesquely 
blended  in  his  thoughts. 

His  mother's  system  of  education  was  peculiar. 
There  was  little  indulgence  in  it,  but  a  great  deal  of 
liberty.  The  boys  were  generally  allowed,  to  go 
where  they  would,  and  do  any  thing  they  liked  ;  but 
her  authority,  when  exercised,  was  paramount  and 
despotic.  To  the  mother  of  a  numerous  and  disor- 
derly family,  who  inquired  if  the  revolutionary  prin- 
ciples of  the  day  were  not  making  way  among  her 
boys,  she  described  her  rule  as  "  implicit  obedience — 
unconditional  submission."  Her  son's  character  was 
not  without  such  touches  of  willfulness  as  rendered 
strong  measures  now  and  then  necessary  ;  and  in  one 
Christmas  vacation,  on  her  return,  after  a  short 
absence,  she  was  startled  with  the  intelligence  that 
"  Master  Fowell  had  behaved  very  ill,  and  struck  his 
sister's  governess."  This  most  ungallant  ofiense  she 
resolved  to  punish  by  leaving  him  at  school  during 
the  approaching  Easter  holidays.  In  the  mean  time, 
for  some  misdemeanor,  two  of  the  most  disreputable 
boys  in  the  school  had  been  sentenced  to  undergo  tha 
same  penalty  ;  and  Mrs.  Buxton,  feeling  the  dilemma 
in  which  she  was  thus  placed,  went  to  Greenwich 
on  the  Hrst  of  the  holidays,  and  having  frankly  ex- 
plained her  difficulty  to  the  juvenile  offender,  end- 
ed by  stating,  that  rather  than  have  him  left  alone, 
at  the  risk  of  being  contaminated  by  the  two  cul- 
prits, she  was  prepared  to  forego  her  intention,  and 


i38  PHILANTHROPISTS. 

allow  him  to  come  home  with  her  other  sons.  His 
answer  was  a  strange  mixture  of  hardihood  and  hero- 
ism :  "  Mother,  never  fear  that  I  shall  disgrace  you 
or  myself;  my  brothers  are  ready,  and  so  is  my  din- 
ner ;  "  and  the  stout-hearted  Quakeress  left  him  to 
his  fate. 

Her  aim  was  to  give  her  sons  a  manly  and  vigor 
ous  character.  She  impressed  upon  them,  from  child- 
hood, the  duty  of  benevolence,  and  set  before  them 
the  idea  of  taking  up  and  advocating  some  great 
cause,  by  which  they  might  promote  the  welfare  and 
happiness  of  their  fellow-creatures.  She  sought  to 
render  them  self-denying,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
thoughtful  for  others  ;  and  particularly  strove  to  incul- 
cate an  abhorrence  of  slavery  and  the  slave-trade. 
Occasionally  the  holidays  were  spent  with  their  grand- 
mother, either  in  London  or  at  a  country-house  near 
Weymouth.  A  visit  of  this  kind  was  always  looked 
on  as  an  extremely  pleasant  afi'air,  and  comprised 
many  of  the  happiest  hours  of  Buxton's  boyhood. 
The  situation  of  his  grandmother's  house  was  beau- 
tiful, and  commanded  enchanting  views  of  Wey- 
mouth Bay  and  the  Island  of  Portland. 

When  he  had  attained  his  fifteenth  year,  v.'ithout 
having  made  any  considerable  advance  in  learning, 
Buxton  persuaded  his  mother  to  allow  him  to  reside 
at  home,  and  for  some  months  divided  his  time 
between  field-sports  and  desultory  reading.  When 
active  amusement  did  not  conveniently  come  in  his 


BOYHOOD  OF  THOMAS  FOWELL  BUXTON.     139 

way,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  spending  whole  day? 
1-idir.g  about  the  lanes,  on  an  old  pony,  with  some  en- 
tertaining book  in  his  hand,  to  the  entire  neglect  of 
graver  studies.  His  manners  were  rough  and  uncul- 
tivated ;  his  friends  labored  to  reform  and  refine  them, 
but  the  weapons  used  for  that  purpose — reproof  and 
ridicule — produced  no  other  effect  than  discourage- 
ment and  annoyance.  However,  he  was  looked  upon 
as  the  heir  of  a  considerable  fortune,  which  was 
something  to  be  thankful  for;  and  there  was  every 
prospect  of  his  passing  through  life  like  one  of  those 
enviable  squires  who,  according  to  old  poets  and 
i.iodern  historians, 

" were  only  fit  to  sleep  and  dream 


By  their  own  fire  ; 
And,  when  awake,  were  only  good 
To  yelp  and  halloo  in  a  wood." 

He  was,  indeed,  on  the  edge  and  crisis  of  his  fate, 
when,  raw,  loutish,  and  awkward,  he  set  off,  in  the 
autumn  of  1802,  to  visit  the  family  of  Mr.  Gurney, 
at  Earlham  Hall,  near  Norwich,  with  one  of  whose 
sons  he  had  previou"sly  become  acquainted.  The 
Gurneys  belonged  to  the  most  ancient  gentry  of 
Norfolk,  but  had  enriched  themselves  by  commercial 
enterprise,  and  become  Quakers,  though  hardly  after 
the  most  rigid  and  approved  fashion.  The  circle  con- 
tained four  boys  and  seven  girls,  ail  zealously  em- 
ployed in  self-education.  The  three  elder  daughters, 
paiticularly,  were  endowed  with  superior  mind  s,  and 


140  PHILANTHROPISTS. 

accomplished  in  various  ways.  They  did  not  dance, 
indeed,  for  that  of  course  would  have  been  a  grievous 
sin,  especially  as  one  of  them  was  in  esteem  as  a 
preacher ;  but  they  excelled  as  linguists  and  musi- 
cians, and  were  possessed  of  equestrian  skill  that 
Diana  Vernon  might  have  been  jealous  of.  Even 
the  youngest  were  animated  with  an  ardent  desire  to 
acquire  knowledge,  and  Buxton  caught  the  inspira- 
tion, not  the  less  readily,  as  may  easily  be  imagined, 
that  he  was  at  first  sight  captivated  with  "  the  sweet 
attractive  grace"  of  the  fifth  daughter,  Hannah, 
and  yielded  to  her  charms  without  a  struggle.  No 
event  certainly  could  have  been  more  fortunate  for 
him,  or  more  conducive  to  improvement.  It  gave 
a  color  to  his  existence,  stimulated  his  industry  in 
the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  and  exercised  an  influence 
on  him  pregnant  with  good  at  a  very  critical  period 
of  his  life.  He  had  gone  to  Earlham  a  loutish, 
uninteresting  lad,  whose  uncultivated  condition  had 
defied  all  the  eflbrts  of  Dr.  Burney  and  his  m.other , 
but — 

'"What  not  his  parent's  care  nor  tutor's  art 
Could  plant  with  pains  in  his  unpolish'd  heart, 
The  best  instructor,  love,  at  once  inspired." 

The  influences  to  M-hich  he  was  exposed  there 
awakened  the  faculties  that  lay  dormant  in  his  mind, 
and  WTought  a  complete  change  in  the  whole  work- 
ing of  his  spiiit  ;  and  when  on  leaving  tho  place,  hs 


BOYHOOD  OF  THOMAS  FOWELL  BUXTON.    14i 

looked  back  on  the  hospitable  mansion,  with  its  old 
trees,  under  whose  shade  he  had  walked  with  his 
charming  friends,  and  sat  while  they  sketched  or  read 
aloud,  it  was  with  a  vow  to  cultivate  his  talents — a 
firm  and  invincible  determination  to  do  or  die. 

His  mother  had  proposed  sending  him  to  the  Scot- 
tish University  of  St.  Andrews,  but  to  this  his  aver- 
sion was,  from  some  cause,  decided  and  insuperable. 
Besides,  there  being  reason  to  expect  that  he  would 
inherit  considerable  property  in  Ireland,  she  deemed 
it  advisable  that  he  should  complete  his  education  in 
Dublin.  Accordingly,  in  the  winter  of  1802,  he  was 
placed  at  Donnybrook,  in  the  family  of  a  person  who 
prepared  pupils  for  the  University.  At  this  place  he 
took  up  his  residence  shortly  before  the  Christmas 
holidays  ;  and,  though  then  he  was  inferior  to  all  his 
companions  in  classical  acquirements,  by  spending 
the  vacation  in  close  and  resolute  study,  it  was  found, 
on  their  return,  that  he  stood  first  among  the  pupils. 
He  gave  up  all  desultory  reading,  refrained  from 
looking  even  into  a  novel  or  newspaper,  but  pursued 
weightier  studies,  morning,  noon,  and  night. 

After  remaining  a  year  at  Donnybrook,  and  pay- 
ing a  visit  to  Earlham,  the  most  delightful  reward 
for  his  labors,  and  the  source  of  much  pleasure  and 
happiness,  he  returned  to  Dublin  in  1803,  and  entered 
Trinity  College  as  a  fellow-commoner.  Here  he  at 
once  commenced  his  studies  with  great  vigor,  and 
with  a  succes,s  which  surpassed  his  expectations.    His 


142  PHILANTHROPISTS 

college  career  was  a  perpetual  triumph  ;  all  doubts 
and  difficulties  disappeared  before  his  arduous  en- 
ergy. He  bore  of  every  prize,  medal,  certificate,  or 
honor,  that  it  was  possible  for  him  to  gain;  and  as  a 
member  of  the  Historical  Society  he  received  an 
award  of  "  remarkable  thanks,"  which,  though  pro- 
vided for  by  its  rules,  had  never,  up  to  that  date, 
been  won  by  any  individual.  At  the  termination  of 
his  University  course,  the  highest  compliment,  con- 
ceivable under  the  circumstances,  was  bestowed  upon 
him  in  being  requested  to  stand  for  the  represent- 
ation of  the  University,  with  such  assurances  of  sup- 
port, that  his  return  might  have  been  calculated  on 
as  a  certainty.  He  took  time  to  consider  the  mat- 
ter ;  much  to  the  surprise  of  his  friends  he  resisted 
the  tempting  prospect  thus  opened  to  youthful  ambi- 
tion; and,  returning  to  England  in  April  1807,  next 
month  received  the  hand  of  the  adorable  Hannah — 
his  highest  and  most  cherished  aspiration.  The  first 
few  months  of  his  married  life  were  passed  at  a 
small  cottage  close  by  his  grandmother's  residence. 
The  expectations  entertained  of  his  succeeding  to 
Irish  estates  had  been  disappointed,  and  he  found 
that  his  fortunes  must  depend  upon  his  own  exertions 
After  deliberating  on  the  idea  of  following  the  law 
as  a  profession  he  relinquished  it,  and  entered  into 
negotiations  in  difierent  quarters,  vi'ith  a  view  of 
establishing  himself  in  business.  For  a  time  these 
were  fruitless  ;   and  he  sufTcrcd  severely  from  the  in- 


BOYHOOD  OF  THOMAS  FOWELL  BUXTON.     143 

activity  of  the  present,  and  the  uncertainty  of  the 
future.  Indeed,  as  he  said  long  after,  he  longed  foi 
any  employment  that  would  produce  him  a  hundred 
a  year,  even  if  he  had  to  work  twelve  hours  a  day 
for  it. 

Nearly  a  year  passed  before  his  anxieties  in  this 
respect  Avere  terminated.  Then  his  uncle  offered 
him  a  situation  in  Truman's  brewery,  with  the 
promise  of  being  a  partner  after  three  years'  proba- 
tion. Buxton  was,  during  the  term,  closely  occu- 
pied in  making  himself  master  of  his  new  vocation  ; 
yet  he  found  time  for  the  study  of  English  literature, 
particularly  works  ou  political  economy.  He  cher- 
ished the  hope  of  some  day  entering  Parliament, 
and  continued  to  exercise  his  powers  of  debate  at  the 
Academics'  Club,  of  which  he  was  a  member.  He 
now  also  began  to  show  symptoms  of  having  profited 
by  the  example  of  his  father,  who  as  sherifi  had  done 
his  utmost  to  ameliorate  the  condition  of  the  prisoners 
in  the  county  jail,  and  by  the  lessons  inculcated  by 
his  mother.  The  seed  had  fallen  into  good  ground, 
and  began  to  spring  up.  Upon  settling  in  London, 
he  immediately  sought  opportunities  of  promoting  the 
welfare  of  his  less  favored  fellow-men,  and  engaged 
in  some  of  those  benevolent  pursuits  to  which  his 
after-life  was  devoted.  From  the  time  of  his  con 
nection  with  the  distressed  district  in  which  the 
brewery  was  situated,  he  took  an  active  part  in  all 
its  charities,  more  especially  those  having  education 


144  PHILANTHROPISTS. 

and  the  spread  of  the  Gospel  for  their  object.  The 
Buflcrings  of  the  Spitalfields  weavers  became  his  pe- 
cuhar  care. 

Ill  1811  he  was  admitted  as  a  partner  in  the  brew 
ery,  and  during  the  seven  following  years  devoted 
his  rare  energies  to  business.  He  remodeled  the 
whole  system  of  management,  and  hardly  ever  dis- 
played greater  vigor,  firmness,  and  indomitable  de- 
termination, than  in  carrying  his  undertaking  to  a 
successful  termination. 

Meantime,  in  the  winter  of  181G,  he  had  zealous- 
ly exerted  himself  to  relievo  or  palliate  the  intolera- 
ble sufferings  that  fell  on  the  weavers  of  Spitalfields. 
At  a  meeting  held  on  their  behalf,  at  the  Mansion 
House,  he  delivered  a  speech  that  commanded  the 
earnest  attention,  and  won  the  enthusiastic  applause, 
of  all  parties.  In  the  same  year  was  established  the 
Society  for  the  Pveformation  of  Prison  Discipline,  on 
which  subject  he,  the  following  summer,  published 
his  work,  which  was  received  with  a  degree  of  atten- 
tion far  greater  than  he  ever  looked  for.  It  ran 
through  six  editions  in  the  course  of  the  year,  secured 
the  warm  congratulations  of  Mr.  Wilberforce,  was 
alhuled  to  in  the  House  of  Commons  by  Sir  James 
Mackintosh  in  terms  of  the  highest  praise,  was  trans- 
lated into  French  and  distributed  on  the  Continent, 
reached  Turkey,  and  induced  a  gentleman  who  read 
I't  in  India  to  examine  into  the  state  of  the  Madras 
•jails,  and  never  to  slacken  in  his  endeavors  till  ho 


BOYHOOD  OF  THOMAS  FOWELL  BUXTON.     145 

had  effected  a  complete  reformation  in  their  wretched 
condition. 

In  1818  he  was  elected  member  of  Parliament  for 
Weymouth,  and  took  his  seat  in  the  following  spring. 
The  horrors  of  slavery,  as  has  been  stated,  had  been, 
almost  in  infancy,  impressed  on  his  mind ;  and  he 
had  since  become  a  member  of  the  African  Institu- 
tion. This  led  to  him  being  chosen  by  Mr.  Wilber 
force  as  his  successor  in  the  advocacy  and  champion- 
ship of  the  claims  of  the  slaves.  From  this  point  he 
labored  assiduously  to  strike  off' their  fetters,  till  1833, 
when  the  great  principles  for  which  he  had  contend- 
ed were  embodied  in  the  Slavery  Abolition  Act,  and 
freedom  bestowed  on  900,000  British  subjects  in  the 
colonies.  A  baronetcy  was  conferred  on  him  in 
1840.  To  the  last  he  was  unremitting  in  his  efforts 
to  benefit  the  African  race.  On  the  19th  of  July, 
1845,  his  spirit  departed  in  peace  from  the  earth, 
and  his  mortal  remains  were  consigned  to  their  kin- 
dred dust  in  the  ruined  chancel  of  the  little  church 
at  Overstrand.  Crowds  of  the  neighboring  villagers 
were  there  to  testify  their  sincere  esteem  for  his  esti- 
mable character,  and  their  affectionate  regard  for  his 
memory.  Indeed  the  latter,  on  account  of  his  influ- 
ence and  services  to  mankind,  rests  on  such  an  im- 
perishable basis,  that  it  will  be  fresh  to  the  latest 
generations.  Such  is  the  reward  of  persevering  phi- 
lanthropy. 

]?uxton's  opinion  seems  to  have  been  that  a  young 
K 


U6  I'lIILANTIlROPlSTS. 

man  may  "bcoomc  very  much  wliat  ho  plcascp,  by 
working,  studying,  and  strugghug.  "The  longer  1 
live,  the  more  I  am  certain,"  he  wrote,  "that  the 
great  diflerencc  hetween  men,  hot  ween  the  feeble  «nd 
the  powerful,  is  energy — invincible  determination — 
a  purjiose  once  fixed,  and  then  deatli  or  victory.  That 
quality  will  do  any  thing  that  can  be  done  in  this 
world  ;  and  no  talents,  no  circumstances,  no  opportu- 
nities, will  malce  a  two-legged  cn;ature  a  man  with- 
out it  " 


CHAPTER   VII. 
^stronomcre. 


BOYHOOD  OF  GALILEO. 

WniLi;  the  memory  of  those  who  were  inslrument- 
hI  ill  tlie  ])er.seculioii  of  this  great  man  i.s  regarded 
with  pily,  contempt,  or  hatred,  it  is  acknowledged 
that  there  is  no  one  to  whom  physical  science  is  more 
indebted  for  its  general  progress  than  the  courtly 
and  accompH.shed  Tuscan,  or  whose  name  is  associ- 
ated with  a  hnger  number  of  important  discoveries, 
lie  was  the  f-cion  of  a  decayed  patrician  family, 
whoso  members  had,  in  its  days  of  greatness,  held 
high  rank  and  filled  important  civic  oflices  in  Flo- 
rence. ]3nt,  in  his  time,  they  seem  to  have  experi- 
enced rather  more  than  a  full  share  of  adverse  fortune. 
His  father,  Vineeiizo,  was  a  man  of  no  inconsiderable 
accomplishmenis,  refined  taste,  and  great  musical 
lalenLs,  of  which  he  has  left  a  monument  in  his 
"  Discourse  on  the  INTusic  of  the  Ancients  and  Mod- 
erns," published  in  1581  ;  but  his  income  was  small 
and  his  family  large,  so  that  the  young  Galileo  was 


148  ASTRONOMERS. 

brought  up  in  that  chill  kind  of  poverty  which  woulu 
often  make  his  thoughts  wander  from  the  sad  reali- 
ities  of  his  father's  circumstances  to  the  position 
occupied  by  his  ancestors,  and  thus  engender  the 
spirit  of  defiance  which  afterward  brought  upon  him 
the  wrath  of  professors  and  the  vengeance  of  the 
Inquisition. 

Galileo  Galilei  was  born  at  Pisa,  on  the  15th  of 
March,  1564,  his  mother  being  a  lady  of  noble  birth  ; 
and  he  soon  gave  evidence  of  not  being  in  the  roll  of 
ordinary  boys.  He  busied  himself  with  making  va- 
rious miniature  models,  and  repairing  the  toys  which 
the  rough  and  careless  usage  of  his  playmates  had 
damaged,  thus  gaining  great  popularity  with  the 
children  in  the  neighborhood.  His  young  brain  was 
early  exercised  with  thought,  and  it  has  been  well 
?aid,  that  while  those  of  his  age  were  whipping  their 
tops  he  was  scientifically  considering  the  cause  of 
their  motion.  He  was  early  sent  to  an  academy  at 
Florence,  but  only  for  a  short  time.  His  father's 
narrow  circumstances  rendering  it  necessary  to  prac- 
tice the  most  rigid  economy,  he  was  soon  recalled,  to 
be  educated  under  the  paternal  roof.  Thus  he  ha  1 
the  advantage  of  constant  and  affectionate  inter- 
course with  a  man  of  intellectual  pursuits,  exquisito 
taste,  and  cultivated  mind,  at  the  very  time  when 
his  was  receiving  its  earliest  imoressions.  Especially 
to  a  highly  gifted  boy,  this  must  ever  be  of  immense 
consequence,  and  ought  not  to  be  lightly  valued  by 


BOYHOOD  OF  GALILEO.  He 

any.  In  this  case  the  chavniing  fruits  soon  appeared 
in  Galileo's  accomplishmenls  in  painting,  poetry, 
music,  and  song.  He  also  took  great  delight  in  the 
classics,  and  manifested  his  anxious  desire  to  arrive 
at  the  truth  of  any  subject,  by  that  habit  of  deep  and 
resolute  inquiry  which  afterward  led  to  his  brilliant 
discoveries.  His  character  in  boyhood,  as  in  more 
mature  years,  was  amiable  and  generous,  so  that  as 
his  fame  for  talent  grew  and  became  the  theme  of 
conversation  in  his  native  city,  the  admiration  for 
his  social  qualities  increased  in  proportion.  No 
youth  on  the  fruit-abounding  banks  of  the  Arno 
received  so  much  praise,  or  was  regarded  with  more 
hope ;  and,  as  time  passed  on,  it  added  to  the  in- 
terest he  excited,  and  the  love  he  inspired.  He 
had  his  name  on  every  tongue — his  image  in  every 
heart. 

Vincenzo  was  justly  proud,  as  he  well  might  be, 
of  his  son's  talents  and  graces,  but  his  limited  income 
at  first  precluded  the  idea  of  his  being  put  into  and 
path  of  life  in  which  they  might  be  effectually  exer- 
cised. The  brilliant  Galileo  was  therefore  destined 
for  commerce,  his  parents,  perhaps,  indulging  in  the 
hope  that  he  might  thereby,  Solon-like,  rebuild  the 
shattered  fortunes  of  the  Galilei.  However,  the  stu- 
dious disposition  of  the  boy,  his  great  promise,  and 
the  advice  of  friends,  at  length  convinced  his  father 
that  sacrifices  must  be  made,  and,  conceiving  the  in- 
terests and  happiness  of  his  son  to  be  at  slake,  he 


150  ASTRONOMERS 

reluctantly  arrived  at  the  determination  of  parting 
with  a  portion  of  his  remaining  substance,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  securing  Galileo  the  education  essential  to 
qualify  him  for  a  liberal  profession.  Accordingly  he 
was,  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  sent  to  the  University 
of  Pisa  to  study  medicine,  and  thus  enabled  to  fit  him- 
self for  a  walk  of  life  which  held  out  the  prospect  ol 
pecuniary  profit.  In  taking  this  step,  Vincenzo,  who 
had  doubtless  learned  worldly  wisdom  from  sharp  ex- 
perience, was  probably  influenced  by  the  consideration 
that  ere  long  his  son's  undoubted  abilities  would  win 
him  such  a  celebrity  as  might  cast  its  rays  on,  and, 
prove  advantageous  to  his  other  children  in  their  pro- 
gress through  life.  How  little  did  he  foresee  the 
dark  stain  by  which  the  splendor  of  that  celebrity  was 
to  be  tarnished  I 

Galileo  entered  the  university  with  a  strict  in- 
junction not  to  neglect  his  medical  duties  for  the 
more  fascinating  pursuit  of  literature,  or  the  attract- 
ive study  of  philosophy  ;  but,  in  spite  of  all  warn- 
ino's,  he  showed  no  inclination  to  devote  himself  to  the 
details  of  the  profession  for  which  he  was  intended. 
In  fact,  the  established  system  of  education  was  op- 
posed to  all  his  ideas,  being  utterly  at  enmity  with 
that  spirit  of  free  inquiry  by  which  he  had  always  been 
animated  and  guided.  lie  did  not  relish  the  thought 
of  being  forced  to  move  in  a  circle  like  the  mill-liorse. 
Disdaining  to  be  tamely  and  slavishly  led  by  such 
opinions    as    were    llien    predominant,    Galileo    first 


BO /HOOD  OF  GALILEO.  J''. 

questioned  and  then  denied  their  correctness.  This 
caused  great  annoyance  to  the  professors,  who  were 
not  accustomed  to  have  the  opinions  they  dehvered 
discussed  ;  but  they  had  now  to  do  Avith  a  youth  who 
would  not  tamely  submit  to  the  dictation  of  blind 
guides. 

At  this  period  Galileo's  taste  for  geometry  was 
developed  by  overhearing  a  lesson  given  to  the  pages 
of  the  Grand  Duke  by  the  Abbe  Hicci,  who,  happen- 
ing to  hear  of  his  progress,  and  being  a  friend  of  his 
father,  encouraged  him  to  persevere,  and  admitted 
him  to  his  class.  Galileo  entered  upon  it  with  de- 
votion ;  the  study  of  Euclid  was  succeeded  by  that  of 
Archimedes  ;  and  Vincenzo  found  all  eflorts  to  recall 
his  son's  attention  to  his  professional  pursuits  quite 
futile.  Under  such  circumstances,  and  considering, 
perhaps,  that  he  had  done  something  toward  invoking 
the  genius  which  he  could  not  control,  he  was  fain 
to  allow  the  young  philosopher  to  follow  the  bent  of 
tiis  own  inclination.  He  was  unable,  however,  to 
maintain  him  at  the  University,  and,  being  disap- 
pointed in  his  application  for  a  bursary,  Galileo,  was 
obliged  to  leave  without  taking  his  doctor's  degree. 
While  yet  a  student,  he  had  remarked  the  isochron- 
ism  of  the  pendulum.  At  that  time  he  was  nineteen, 
and  it  happened  in  this  wise.  At  the  western  ex- 
tremity of  the  town  stands  the  ancient  cathedral  of 
Pisa,  magnificently  adorned  with  statues,  painting.s, 
larvings.   and   mosaics,  the   M'orks  of  some   of  the 


152  ASTRONOMERS. 

most  famous  artists  who  adorned  the  Italian  repub 
lies  in  their  best  and  most  glorious  days.  Walk- 
ing in  its  lofty  aisle,  Galileo  was  struck  with  ob- 
serving the  oscillation  of  one  of  the  lamps  suspended 
from  the  ceiling.  Viewing  and  examining  it  with 
the  eye  of  a  diligent  inquirer,  and  experimenting  re- 
peatedly and  carefully,  the  keen  workings  of  his  mind 
led  him  to  the  discovery  of  the  law  of  oscillation, 
and  the  most  perfect  measure  of  time  we  yet  possess. 
Engaged,  as  he  then  was,  in  medical  studies,  his  dis- 
covery was  first  applied  to  ascertain,  the  rate  of  the 
pulse.  In  mature  years  he  intended  to  make  use  of 
the  pendulum  as  the  regulator  of  clock-work ;  but 
he  was  ignorant  of  the  theory  of  isochronism  as  first 
developed  by  Huygens. 

Galileo's  first  essay  in  science  was  a  paper  on  tho 
hydrostatic  balance,  which  fell  into  the  hands  of 
Guide  Ubaldi.  That  learned  Pisan  was  so  much 
taken  with  the  originality  of  thought  and  patient 
investigation  it  displayed,  that  he  conceived  a  strong 
friendship  for  its  young  author,  and  had  him  appoint- 
ed Lecturer  of  Mathematics  at  Pisa.  In  this  posi- 
sition,  by  the  daring  and  ironical  nature  of  his  at- 
tacks on  the  mechanical  doctrines  of  Aristotle,  ho 
raised  the  suspicions  and  kindled  the  wrath  of  a 
strong  party  in  the  University ;  but  removed  from  it 
in  1592,  being  appointed  by  the  Republic  of  Venice 
to  the  professorship  of  Mathematics  at  Padua,  which 
he  held  for  eighteen  years,  with  a  popularity  so  un 


BOYHOOD  OF  GALILEO.  153 

bounded,  that  his  audience  had  frequently  to  adjourn 
lo  the  open  air,  the  crowds  who  flocked  to  listen  to 
him  being  far  too  great  to  be  accommodated  in  the 
lecture-room. 

In  1609  occurred  his  great  invention,  or  re-inven- 
tion, of  the  telescope,  of  which  his  brilliant  astro- 
nomical discoveries  were  the  consequence.  The  re- 
ceived account  is,  that  while  at  Venice  in  that  year, 
a  report  was  brought  to  the  city  that  an  instrument 
had  been  constructed  in  Holland,  and  presented  to 
Count  Maurice,  which  made  distant  objects  appear 
near.  Setting  himself  to  woi-k  with  his  wonted  ar- 
dor and  ingenuity,  Galileo,  by  applying  two  spec- 
tacle-glasses of  a  particular  kind  to  a  leaden  tube, 
was  soon  in  possession  of  an  instrument,  which  mag- 
nified three  times.  In  the  course  of  a  few  days  lie 
presented  several  such  telescopes  to  the  Venetian 
Senate,  with  a  paper  setting  forth  the  mighty  im- 
portance of  them  to  science.  It  was  now  that  "  the 
Tuscan  artist"  viewed  "  from  the  top  of  Fesole" 
what  mortal  eye  had  never  before  heheld.  A  French 
biographer  has  thus  expressed  the  wonderful  sights 
which  greeted  him : 

"  The  surface  of  the  moon,  like  another  earth, 
ridged  by  high  mountains  and  furrowed  by  deep 
valleys ;  Venus,  as  well  as  it,  presenting  phases  de- 
monstrative of  a  spherical  form ;  Jupiter  surround- 
ed by  four  satellites,  which  accompanied  him  in  his 
orbit;  the  milky  way  ;  thenehulae;  finally,  the  whole 


,54  ASTRONOMERS. 

heaven  sown  over  with  an  infinite  multitude  cf  stars^ 
too  small  to  be  discerned  by  the  naked  eye." 

Galileo's  discoveries  excited  great  admiration. 
Men  crowded  to  see  him  use  this  miraculous  in- 
btrument ;  and  the  Senate  acknowledged  the  service 
he  had  done  the  state  by  conferring  on  him  his  pro- 
fessorship for  life  ;  but,  by  liberal  promises,  he  was 
induced  to  return  to  his  native  state,  and  took  up  his 
residence  at  Florence,  as  mathematician  to  the  Grand 
Duke.  From  this  date  astronomy  became  his  chief, 
almost  his  sole  study.  But  dark  days  were  in  store 
for  him.  He  was  brought  before  the  Inquisition, 
charged  with  what  was  held  the  crime  of  maintain- 
ing and  teaching  the  doctrine  of  the  mobility  of  the 
earth  and  the  immobility  of  the  sun.  In  February, 
1616,  a  Congregation  of  Cardinals  having  consider- 
ed the  charges,  decreed  that  he  be  enjoined  to  aban 
don  the  obnoxious  doctrines,  and  pledge  himself,  un- 
der penalty  of  imprisonment,  not  to  propagate  them 
in  any  way  for  the  future.  Next  day  the  "great 
astronomer  did  not  hesitate  to  renounce  his  opinions, 
to  abandon  the  doctrine  of  the  earth's  m.otion,  and 
promise  neither  to  teach  nor  defend  it  in  time  to 
come.  The  Congregation,  having  disposed  of  its  pro- 
mulgator, next  proceeded  to  deal  with  the  doctrine 
itself,  which  was  forthwith  pronounced  to  be  false, 
and  contrary  to  the  Holy  Scriptures. 

Fteturning  to  Florence,  Galileo  resumed  his  astro- 
nomical labors,  and  for  sixteen  years  was  engaged 


BOYKOOn  OF  GALILEO.  iJ>> 

with  a  work  to  prove  the  motion  of  the  earth  and 
the  constitution  of  the  heavens.  Having  rendered 
the  truth  as  attractive  as  the  exercise  of  his  power- 
ful genius  and  exquisite  taste  could  make  it,  he  ob- 
tained permission  to  publish  it,  by  something  very  like 
a  dexterous  manoeuvre.  The  sad  result  is  too  well 
known.  The  book  itself  was  condemned  by  the  In- 
quisition, and  its  author,  at  the  age  of  sixty-nine, 
compelled,  notwithstanding  his  weak  state  of  health, 
to  undertake  a  journey  to  Rome.  On  arrival,  he 
was  put  under  arrest,  and  forced  to  swear  on  hia 
knees  to  a  series  of  propositions  affirmative  of  the 
fixedness  of  the  earth,  and  the  motion  of  the  sun 
round  it  every  twenty-four  hours  ;  and  abjuring,  de- 
nouncing, and  detesting  the  error  and  heresy  of  the 
doctrines  which  he  had  labored  with  so  much  zeal 
to  estabUsh,  and  vindicated  by  arguments  which  his 
opponents  found  themselves  unable  to  refute. 

Persecution  had  now  done  its  work.  That  high 
and  haughty  spirit,  which,  in  the  cause  of  truth,  had 
long  defied  all  dangers,  was  at  last  broken.  With- 
out being  relieved  from  the  grasp  of  the  Inquisition, 
he  was,  after  remaining  four  days  in  its  dungeon, 
permitted  to  reside  in  the  palace  of  the  Tuscan  em* 
bassador,  whence  he  went  to  Sienna.  After  passing 
six  months  there,  he  returned  to  his  own  villa  at 
Arcetri,  called  the  Gem,  where  he  spent  the  remain- 
der of  his  life,  and  was  visited  by  Milton.  Almost 
immediately  after  his  arrival  he  lost  his  daughter, 


156  ASTRONOMERS. 

•who  was  the  sole  comfort  and  stay  of  his  declining 
years.  During  his  last  days,  at  Arcetri,  which  he 
styled  his  prison,  he  composed  his  "  Dialogues  on 
Motion,"  and  made  his  latest  astronomical  discovery, 
the  diurnal  libration  of  the  moon.  This  took  place 
in  1636,  soon  after  which  he  lost  the  sight  of  an  eye, 
and  subsequently  beoiise  totally  blind.  He  expired 
on  the  8th  of  January,  1642,  in  the  seventy-eighth 
year  of  his  age ;  and  his  bones  were  laid  •'  in  Santa 
Croce's  holy  precincts,"  among  the  ashes  that  make 
them  hoUer. 

The  perjury  of  which  Galileo  was  guilty  is  un- 
doubtedly a  deep  blot  on  the  brilliancy  of  his  fame  ; 
but  the  circumstances  under  which  it  was  committed, 
though  they  can  not  excuse,  are  calculated  to  palliate 
his  departure  from  truth  and  honor.  It  is  neces- 
sary, even  when  admiring  his  genius,  to  look  steadily 
through  the  lustre  which  it  has  cast  around  it,  and 
note  this  great  transgression.  Perhaps,  however,  his 
Buflerings  may,  in  some  measure,  be  taken  as  an 
atonement.  At  all  events,  the  finger  of  scorn  is 
pointed  by  posterity  at  the  memory  of  his  persecutors, 
while  his  name  shines  with  radiant  though  not  stain- 
less brightness  in  the  foremost  rank  of  those  who 
have  accomplished  great  things  for  theii  species, 
widened  the  sphere  of  human  knowledge,  and  over- 
thrown the  prejudices  that  have  long  enthralled  the 
minds,  and  narrowed  the  visions  of  men. 


BOYHOOD  OF  FERGUSON. 

The  noblesse  of  Florence  furnished  the  illustrious 
astronomer  whose  boyhood  has  been  briefly  sketched ; 
the  peasantry  of  Scotland,  a  class  which  enjoys  tha 
ennobling  distinction  of  having  given  the  poet  Burns 
to  the  world,  produced  this  good  and  celebrated  man, 
who,  in  happier  times,  on  a  free  soil,  and  with  the 
favor  of  his  sovereign,  exercised  the  great  talents 
with  which  Providence  had  endowed  him  to  minister 
essentially  to  the  progress  of  astronomy,  and  to  pre- 
sent an  encouraging  instance  of  successful  study  and 
perseverance.  Ferguson  has  left  a  frank  and  simple 
record  of  the  struggles,  difficulties,  and  disappoint- 
ments he  had  to  encounter,  which  is,  at  the  same 
time,  highly  interesting,  instructive,  and  worthy  of 
attention,  and  conclusive  as  to  his  having  originally 
had  no  worldly  advantage,  save  that  of  being  the  son 
of  honest  and  religious  parents. 

James  Ferguson  was  born  in  the  year  1710,  near 
the  village  of  Keith,  in  Banffshire,  where  his  father 
was  a  day-laborer,  and  the  cultivator  of  a  small  plot 
of  ground  rented  from  a  neighboring  proprietor. 
This  honest  man's  family  was  somewhat  too  numer- 
ous to  admit  of  his  paying  regularly  for  their  educa- 
tion out  of  his  limited  means,  and  he  was  under  tho 
necessity  of  teaching  his  children  to  read  and  write 
himself,  as  they  reached  the  age  which  he  considered 


158  ASTliO.NOMERS. 

as  fitting  them  to  profit  by  his  instruction.  It  ap- 
pears, however,  that  our  astronomer  anticipated  the 
period  which  his  father  considered  early  enough  for 
commencing  his  lessons.  While  an  elder  brother 
was  being  taught  to  read  the  Catechism  of  his  coun- 
try, James  was  in  the  habit  of  giving  his  earnest  and 
undivided  attention  to  what  was  going  on ;  and  when 
they  left  the  cottage,  he  would,  from  memory  and 
study,  go  carefully  over  the  lesson  which  he  had  just 
heard.  Being  ashamed,  as  he  states,  to  apply  to  hia 
hard- wrought  father  for  the  necessary  information, 
he  used  to  seek  it  from  an  old  woman  who  lived  hard 
by,  and  who  aided  him  so  effectually,  that  he  was 
enabled  to  read  with  considerable  correctness  before 
his  father  had  deemed  it  time  to  bestow  any  instruc- 
tion upon  him.  Greatly  and  agreeably  surprised, 
therefore,  was  the  latter  when  he,  one  day,  suddenly 
came  upon  James,  quietly  seated  in  a  corner,  and 
studiously  poring  over  pages  which  he  had  hitherto 
been  held  utterly  incapable  of  comprehending.  On 
being  informed  of  the  circumstances  which  led  to 
this  knowledge,  the  gratified  father  gave  him  further 
information,  and  initiated  him  into  ths  mysteries  of 
penmanship  ;  so  that  James  was  soon  so  acoirnplished 
as  to  be  sent  for  the  completion  of  his  education  to 
the  grammar-school  at  Keith,  Avhere  he  remained 
for  a  few  months,  and  no  doubt,  profited  much  by 
the  tuition  he  received. 

About  this  time  a  lasting  taste  for  mechanics  was 


BOYHOOD  OF  FERGL'SON.  159 

accidentally  awakened  in  him  by  a  very  simple  occur- 
rence.    When  he  was  about  seven  or  eight  years  old, 
the  roof  of  the  cottage  having  partly  decayed  and 
fallen  in,  his  father,  in  order  to  raise  it  again,  applied 
a  prop  and  lever  to  an  upright  spar,  and,  to  the  aston- 
ishment of  his  son,  lifted  up  the  ponderous  roof  as  if 
it  had  been   a  trifling  weight.     Young  Ferguson's 
wonder  was  not  unmixed  with  terror  at  the  gigantic 
strength  which,  at  first  sight,  appeared  to  have  been 
exercised  to  produce  this  result;  but,  while  consider- 
ing the  matter  carefully,  it  struck  him  that  his  father 
had  applied  his  strength  to  the  extremity  of  the  beam, 
which  he  immediately  concluded  to  be  an  important 
circumstance  in  regard  to  the  operation.     He  resolv- 
ed, however,  to  ascertain  the  correctness  of  this  idea 
by  experiment ;  and,  having  formed  several  levers, 
soon  found  that  he  was  right  in  his  conjecture  as  to 
the  importance  of  applying  the  moving  force  at  tiie 
farthest  possible  distance  from  the  fulcrum.     He  also 
discovered  that  the  effect  of  any  weight  made  to  bear 
upon  the  lever  is  exactly  in  proportion  to  the  distance 
of  the  point  on   which  it  rests  from  the   fulcrum. 
Considering,  then,  that  by  pulling  round  a  wheel, 
the  weight  might  be  raised  to  any  height  by  tying  a 
rope  to  the  weight  and  Avinding  it  round  the  axle  of 
the  v/heel,  and  that  the  power  gained  must  be  just 
as  great  as  the  wheel  was  broader  than  the  axle 
thick,  he  found  it  to  be  exactly  as  he  had  imagined, 
by  hanging   one   weight  to  a  rope    put  round   tho 


160  &.STRONOMERS. 

wheel,  and  another  to  the  rope  coiled  round  the  axle. 
Thus  he  had  made  most  important  advances  in  the 
knowledge  of  mechanics  without  either  book  or 
teacher  to  assist  him ;  and,  indeed,  without  any 
other  tools  than  a  small  knife,  and  a  turning-lathe 
of  his  father's.  Having  made  his  discoveries,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  record  them  carefully  on  paper,  imagining 
his  account  "  to  be  the  first  treatise  of  the  kind  ever 
written,"  till  a  gentleman  to  whom  the  manuscript 
was  shown  undeceived  him,  by  producing  for  his 
inspection  a  book  on  mechanics.  However,  he  had 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  that  his  young  genius  had 
enabled  him  to  arrive  at  important  philosophical 
facts,  and  that  his  account,  so  far  as  it  went,  per- 
fectly agreed  with  the  principles  of  mechanics  as  now 
unfolded  to  him.  He  states  that,  from  this  time,  his 
mind  preserved  a  constant  tendency  to  improvement 
in  that  science. 

Being  too  weak  for  more  vigorous  labor,  Ferguson 
was  sent  to  a  neighbor  to  take  care  of  sheep ;  but 
tending  sheep  was  not,  by  any  means,  his  sole  occu- 
pation. It  was  at  this  period  that  his  attention  wag 
first  turned  to  the  movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies  ; 
and  in  the  day-time  he  was  always  busy  making 
models  of  mills,  spinning-wheels,  or  any  thing  of  tlw 
kind  he  happened  to  notice. 

Having  terminated  his  first  engagement  a.s  sheep- 
boy,  he  renewed  it  with  a  neighboring  firmer,  whom 
he  found  so  kind  a  master  as  to  indulge  him  in  wha'' 


FKilGUSON-S  nUST  ATTKMl'TS  IN  ASTRONONH'. 


BOYHOOD  OF  FERGUSON.  ]63 

were  naturally  enough  regarded  as  boyish  eccentrici* 
ties.  Indeed,  it  may  well  be  imagined  that  his  pre- 
decessors in  the  humble  office  cared  little  for  such 
/matters.  But  Ferguson,  instead  of  acting  on  the 
schoolboy  motto,  opcre  pcracto  liidcmus,  which  is 
generally  considered  sufficiently  binding,  was  in  the 
habit  of  wrapping  himself  closely  up  in  a  blanket, 
and  betaking  himself  to  the  fields  near  the  farm- 
house to  make  observations  on  the  stars. 

"I  used,"  he  writes,  "to  stretch  a  thread  with 
small  beads  on  it,  at  arm's  length  between  my  eye 
and  the  stars  ;  sliding  the  beads  upon  it,  till  they 
hid  such  and  such  stars  from  my  eye,  in  order  to 
take  their  apparen<  distances  from  one  another,  and 
then  laying  the  thread  down  on  the  paper,  I  marked 
the  stars  thereon  by  ihe  beads.  My  master,  at  first, 
laughed  at  me  ;  but  when  I  e,  plained  my  meaning 
to  him,  he  encouraged  me  to  go  on,  and  that  I  might 
make  fair  copies  in  the  day-time  of  what  I  had  done 
in  the  night,  he  often  worked  for  me  himself  I  shall 
always  have  a  respect  for  the  memory  of  that  man." 

Happening  one  day  to  be  sent  on  an  errand  to  the 
minister  of  Keith,  who  had  known  him  from  infancy, 
James  took  his  "  star-papers"  with  him.  He  found 
the  reverend  gentleman  poring  over  a  number  of 
maps,  which  he  requested  to  be  allowed  to  look  over. 
His  wish  being  readily  granted,  he  M'as  delighted 
with  their  contents  ;  asked  a  great  many  question.s 
with  the  utmost  eagerness  ;  learned  for  the  first  time 


164  ASTRONOMERS. 

that  the  earth  is  round :  and  finally  prevailed  on  the 
minister  to  lend  him  a  map  of  the  world  to  copy, 
along  with  materials  for  doing  it.  James  was  now 
so  intent  on  map  drawing,  that  he  had  scarcely  pa- 
tience to  continue  his  wonted  labors  in  the  field ; 
but  his  master  perceiving  that  he  was  no  ordinary 
lad,  proved  extremely  indulgent  and  accommodating. 

In  fact,  he  is  described  by  Ferguson  as  giving  him 
more  time  than  could  reasonably  have  been  expected. 
"He  often,"  says  the  astronomer,  "took  the  thrash- 
nig  flail  out  of  my  hands,  and  worked  himself,  while 
I  sat  by  him  in  the  barn,  busy  with  my  compasses, 
ruler,  and  pen." 

Having  diligently  copied  the  map,  and  completed 
the  task,  Ferguson  obtained  his  master's  permission 
to  take  it  back  to  the  owner.  As  he  was  passing 
the  schoolhousc  on  his  way,  the  teacher,  with  whom 
he  had  been  for  a  short  time,  came  to  the  door,  and 
hailed  him  to  inquire  about  the  contents  of  the  parcel 
he  was  carrying.  Ferguson  having  explained,  the 
schoolmaster  examined  the  copy,  and  asked  if  he 
would  like  to  learn  to  make  sun-dials.  Thereupon  a 
man  who  was  engaged  painting  a  sun-dial  on  tha 
wall  highly  praised  the  copy,  and  told  the  school- 
master that  it  was  a  pity  the  young  draughtsman 
did  not  meet  with  notice  and  encouragement.  Fergu- 
son, after  having  had  a  good  deal  of  conversation  with 
this  man,  whom  he  found  most  communicative,  pro- 
ceeded to  the  minister's    and  was  conversing  with 


HOVllOUD  OF  FERGUSON.  165 

him,  when  Mr.  Grant  of  Ackoynamey,  a  neighbor- 
ing squire,  came  in,  to  whom  he  was  immediately 
introduced.  This  gentleman  was  so  much  pleased 
with  the  copy  of  the  map,  and  the  answers  Ferguson 
gave  to  some  questions  put  by  him,  that  he  proposed 
that  our  young  astronomer  should  go  and  live  at  his 
house,  in  order  that  he  might  receive  instructions 
from  his  butler.  The  latter  turned  out  to  be  the 
same  person  whom  James  had  seen  painting  the 
sun-dial  on  the  walls  of  the  schoolhouse,  and  of 
whom  he  had  conceived  a  very  high  opinion.  He, 
therefore,  told  the  squire  that  he  should  gladly  ac- 
cept his  ofler,  and  come  to  stay  at  his  house  when- 
ever his  present  engagement  had  expired.  The  squire 
good-naturedly  proposed  to  put  another  stripling  in 
his  place;  but  James,  from  motives  of  gratitude  and 
respect  to  his  kind  master,  declined  this  offer. 

When  the  time  of  his  servitude  was  over,  he  re 
moved  to  IMr.  Grant's  house,  where  he  was  most  kind- 
ly treated,  and  found  a  most  competent  instructor  in 
the  butler,  under  whom  he  studied,  and  made  him- 
self well  acquainted  with  decimal  arithmetic  and  alge- 
bra. As  soon  as  he  was  tolerably  proficient  in  the 
latter,  he  commenced  learning  the  elements  of  ge- 
ometry;  but  just  at  that  time,  to  his  great  grief,  his 
teacher  left  Mr.  Grant  to  live  with  a  nobleman  at 
several  miles  distance,  and  Ferguson,  declining  the 
pressing  invitations  he  received  to  stay  at  Ackoy- 
namey, returned  to  his  father's  house.     The  butler, 


J66  ASTRONOMERS. 

at  parting,  had  made  him  a  present  of  Gordoifs 
"  Geographical  Grammar,"  which  he  regarded  as  a 
great  treasure.  From  the  description  it  contained, 
Ferguson  completed  a  globe  in  three  weeks,  having 
turned  the  ball  out  of  a  piece  of  wood,  and  covered  it 
with  paper,  on  which  he  drew  a  map  of  the  world 
The  ring  and  horizon  he  made  of  wood,  covering 
them  with  paper,  and  graduating  them ;  and  he  was 
delighted  to  find  that  he  was  able  to  solve  the  prob- 
lems with  his  globe,  though  it  was  the  first  he  had 
ever  seen. 

But  his  father's  circumstances  would  not  long  per- 
mit him  to  occupy  his  time  m  this  congenial  manner, 
however  agreeable  it  might  be  to  his  inclinations. 
He  thei'efore  determined  on  leaving  his  jiarental  cot- 
tage ;  and  thinking  it  would  be  an  easy  and  pleas- 
ant business  to  attend  a  mill,  and  that,  in  such  a 
situation,  he  should  have  a  great  deal  of  time  to 
study,  he  engaged  himself  to  a  miller  in  the  vicinity. 
He  was  somewhat  unfortunate  in  this  step.  His  new 
master  was  inclined  to  be  a  toper,  and  spent  nearly 
the  whole  of  his  time  in  the  alehouse,  leaving  Fer- 
guson all  the  work  to  do,  and  frequently  nothing 
to  cat.  la  this  man's  service  he  remained  for  a 
year,  when  he  returned  home  in  a  very  weak  state 
of  health. 

Having  regained  his  strength  under  careful  treat 
ment,  he  was  hired,  somewhat  against  his  will,  to  a 
neighboring  farmer,  who  practiced  as  a  physician 


BOYHOOD  OF  FERGUSON.  167 

This  man  promised  to  initiate  him  into  his  profes- 
sion ;  but  this  he  never  did.  On  the  contrary,  Fer- 
guson was  kept  constantly  at  hard  work;  and,  fai 
from  being  taught  any  thing,  was  never  shown  a 
book.  His  term  of  servitude  was  a  year  ;  but  he 
found  himself  so  much  disabled  at  the  end  of  three 
months,  that  he  was  obliged  to  leave,  and  once  more 
returned  to  his  father's  in  a  weak  state  of  health. 
Here,  however,  he  was  not  idle,  but  set  himself  to 
make  a  wooden  clock,  which  kept  time  with  con- 
siderable regularity ;  and  not  long  after,  when  he 
had  recovered  his  health,  he  gave  another  and  strong- 
er proof  of  his  ingenuity  by  constructing  a  time-piece, 
which  moved  by  a  spring.  His  attention  having  thus 
been  turned  to  the  mechanism  of  time-pieces,  he  was 
enabled  to  do  a  little  business  in  the  neighborhood  in 
cleaning  clocks,  which  brought  him  some  money. 
After  this,  having  been  induced  by  a  lady,  to  whom 
he  was  introduced,  to  attempt  the  drawing  of  pat- 
terns for  ladies'  dresses,  he  was  sent  for  by  others 
in  the  country,  and  speedily  found  himself  growing 
quite  rich  by  the  money  earned  in  this  way,  which 
was  the  more  satisfactory  that  it  afforded  him  the 
means  and  pleasure  of  occasionally  supplying  the 
wants  of  his  father.  He  also  began  to  copy  pictures 
with  his  pen,  and  to  attempt  portrait-painting,  in 
which  his  success  appeared  to  his  country  patrons  so 
striking  and  real  that  they  took  him  to  Edinburgh  to 
be  instructed  in  tlic  art.      He  fullowcd  his  new  pro 


IC8  ASTRONOMERS. 

fession  for  twenty-six  years  with  considerable  success 
but  not  with  devotion.    His  astronomical  studies  had 
not,  in  the  mean  time,  been  neglected  ;  he  had  still 
continued  to  make  observations  on  the  stars,  and  was 
most  enthusiastic  in  this  pursuit.     Having  discovered 
th3  cause  of  eclipses  by  himself,  he  drew  up  a  scheme 
to  show  the  motions  and  places  of  the  sun  and  moon 
in  the  ecliptic  on  each  day  of  the  year.     This  having 
been  engraved,  sold  well ;  and  its  author's  mind  be- 
came every  day  more  absorbed  in  astronomical  studies. 
At  length  tired  of  drawing  pictures,  for  which  he 
had  no  natural  taste,  he  resolved  to  go  to  London, 
in  the  hope  of  finding  employment  as  a  teacher  of 
mechanics   and    astronomy.     He   was   immediately 
brought  into  notice  by  the  President  of  the  Fvoyal 
Society,  to  whom  his  paper  on  the  moon's  motion 
had  introduced    and   recommended   him.     In    1747 
he  published  a  disputation  on  the  phenomena  of  the 
harvest-moon.      In    1748   he   began  to   give   public 
lectures  on  his  favorite  subject,  and  had  King  George 
III.,  then  a  boy,  frequently  among  his  auditors.     In 
17G3  he  was  elected  a  Fellow  of  the  Pv^oyal  Society 
the  usual  fees  being  in  his  case  remitted.     He  died 
on  the  ICth  of  November,    177G,  having  won  and 
enjoyed  a  distinguished  reputation  both  in  England 
and  on  the  Continent. 

No  life  could  be  more  fruitful  of  pleasing  and 
salutary  instruction  than  that  of  this  self  taught  man 
J  genius.     The  eagerness  with  which  he  sought,  and 


BOYHOOD  OF  FEKGUSOiN.  16S 

the  industry  he  displayed  in  acquiring  knowledge, 
are  worthy  of  tlie  highest  respect  and  commendation, 
and  will  ever  furnish  a  most  inciting  example  to 
those  who  would  follow  in  his  honorable  steps,  and 
gain  his  well-deserved  fame. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 
Natural    |)l)ilosopl)cr0. 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  ISAAC  NEWTON. 

TiiE  name  of  this  great  English  philosopher  is  one 
of  the  most  illustrious  that  history  presents.  The 
immortal  discoveries  his  genius  effected,  the  height 
of  fame  he  restched,  and  the  meekness  and  humility 
he  exhibited  after  his  most  marvelous  intellectual 
triumphs,  are  in  the  highest  degree  calculated  to 
excite  wonder,  to  win  admiration,  and  to  command 
respect. 

Newton  had  never  to  contend  with  such  circum- 
stances as  have  perplexed  and  distracted  many  of 
those  who  have  accomplished  great  things  for  the 
human  race.  His  father  was  a  farrner-squire  of  Lin- 
colnshire, who  died  before  the  birth  of  his  faraoua 
Bon,  leaving  his  mother  a  widow  a  few  months  after 
their  marriage ;  and  had  their  only  child  been  one 
rejoicing  venando  aut  agrum  colendo  cetatem  agere, 
he  would,  in  all  probability,  have  passed  through  life 
in  case,  comfort,  and  prosperity.     Perhaps,  in  such  t 


tiQYROOD  OF  SIR  ISAAC  NEWTON.  171 

case,  he  might  have  turned  his  powerful  mind  to  the 
science  of  agriculture,  and  contributed  materially  to 
its  progress.  But,  be  that  as  it  may,  his  attention 
was,  at  an  early  age,  directed  to  other  subjects,  and 
the  foundation  laid  of  his  deathless  fame. 

la  a  valley  by  the  river  Witham  stands  the  old 
manor-house  of  Woolsthorpe,  where  his  forefathers, 
originally  from  Lancashire,  had  vegetated  for  centu- 
ries. There,  in  the  dark  December  of  1642 — a  dark 
and  gloomy  period — this  benefactor  of  his  kind  first 
saw  that  light  whose  speed  he  was  destined  to  ascer- 
tain. He  was  so  small  and  feeble  an  infant  that 
hardly  any  hope  of  his  surviving  the  hour  of  his  birth 
was  entertained  by  the  attendants.  Indeed,  two 
women  were  dispatched  for  medicine  to  strengthen 
him,  and  were  not  a  little  surprised  to  find  him  in 
life  on  their  return — -by  so  slender  a  thread  hung  the 
existence  of  the  child  who  was  to  perform  distinguish- 
ed services  to  the  world,  his  country,  and  his  religion. 
Unsearchable,  truly,  are  the  ways  of  Providence  ; 
His  mother,  ere  long,  became  the  wife  of  a  neigh- 
boring rector,  and  the  young  philosopher,  being  left 
in  the  care  of  her  mother,  was  in  due  season  sent  to 
a  day  school  at  Skillington.  At  first,  however,  ho 
did  not  prove  a  very  attentive  scholar.  A  peculiarly 
active  mind  and  a  lively  fancy  did  not  naturally  lead 
him  to  any  particular  diligence  or  industry  in  the 
routine  studies  to  which  a  boy  is  at  first  expected  to 
apply  himself ;  and  he  rather  dehghted  to  practice 


75;  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHERS. 

his  dexterity  in  the  use  of  a  set  of  small  tools,  with 
which  he  gave  evidence  of  a  mechanical  bent  of  mind. 
While  his  companions  were  at  sport  or  mischief,  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  busily  occupying  his  attention 
with  some  mechanical  piece  of  workmanship,  invented 
by  his  own  young  brain,  and  fashioned  with  his  own 
little  hands.  An  accident  first  fired  him  to  strive  for 
distinction  in  the  school-room.  The  boy  who  was 
immediately  above  him  in  the  class,  after  treating 
him  with  a  tyranny  hard  to  bear,  was  cruel  enough 
to  kick  him  in  the  stomach  with  a  severity  that 
caused  great  pain.  Newton  resolved  to  have  his  re- 
venge, but  of  such  a  kind  as  was  natural  to  his  rea- 
soning mind,  even  at  that  immature  age.  He  determ- 
ined to  excel  his  oppressor  in  their  studies  and  lessons  ; 
and,  setting  himself  to  the  task  with  zeal  and  dili- 
gence, he  never  halted  in  his  course  till  he  had  found 
his  way  to  the  top  of  the  class ;  thus  exhibiting  and 
leaving  a  noble  example  to  others  of  his  years  similar- 
ly situated.  Doubtless,  after  this,  he  would  heartily 
forgive  his  crest-fallen  persecutor,  who  could  not  but 
henceforth  feel  ashamed  of  his  unmanly  conduct, 
while  Newton  would  feel  the  proud  consciousness 
of  having  done  his  duty  after  the  bravest  and  noblest 
fashion  which  it  is  in  the  power  of  man  to  adopt. 

At  the  age  of  twelve  he  was  removed  to  a  public 
Bchool  in  the  borough  town  of  Grantham,  where  he 
was  remarked  as  a  "  sober,  silent,  thinking  lad," 
somewhat  fond  of  retirement,  not   altogether  averse 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  I&AAC  JNEWTON.  173 

to  solitude,  and  much  given  to  observation.  Per- 
ceiving that  a  windmill  was  erecting  in  the  vicinity 
ho  watched  it  with  great  interest  and  attention,  went 
every  day  to  mark  the  progress  made  with  it,  and  be- 
came so  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  machinerj 
as  to  construct  and  complete  a  small  model  of  it. 
This  he  placed  on  the  top  of  the  house,  where,  to  the 
joy  of  himself  and  his  companions,  it  was  set  in  mo- 
tion by  the  wind  ;  and  the  machinery  vi'as  so  perfect 
a  copy  of  that  from  which  it  had  been  taken  as  to 
call  forth  the  warm  praise  of  all  who  saw  it.  At 
this  time  he  introduced  the  flying  of  paper-kites,  till 
then  unknown,  thereby  entitling  himself  to  the  grat- 
itude of  boys  of  all  future  generations,  studied  assid- 
uously the  most  advantageous  shape  and  size,  and 
had  enough  of  the  spirit  of  mischief  in  him  to  tako 
vast  delight  in  raising  rumors  of  comets  and  meteors, 
by  attaching  paper  lanterns  to  the  kites  on  a  dark 
night.  Another  of  his  inventions  was  a  water-clock, 
which  was  most  ingeniously  constructed,  and  used 
long  after  his  departure  from  Grantham  by  a  surgeon, 
in  whose  house  he  had  lived  while  there.  His  at- 
tention was  also  keenly  directed  to  the  movements 
of  the  celestial  bodies,  and  by  narrowly  watching  the 
shadows  as  they  passed  slowly  along  the  wall  of  his 
lodging  and  the  roofs  of  the  adjoining  houses,  he  de 
vised  and  formed  a  dial  for  his  own  use.  Following 
up  his  success  in  this  respect,  he  traced  out  and  cor- 
fpcted  it  by  observations  which  he  made  in  succeed* 


174  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHERS. 

ing  years.  It  was  long  remembered  in  the  town  ab 
a  good  time-piece,  and  known,  as  a  memorial  of  hia 
early  genius,  by  the  name  of  "  Isaac's  dial." 

Ordinary  boys  are  animated  by  a  spirit  M'hich  not 
Beldom  prompts  them  to  set  him  of  the  birchen  rod 
at  defiance,  and  avoid  the  hated  school-room  for  the 
lonely  banks  of  running  streams,  or  any  other  place 
where  they  can  indulge,  uncontrolled,  in  every  spe- 
cies of  mischief  It  delights  one  to  wet  his  feet  in 
fishing  for  minnows,  or  in  trustmg  to  the  waters  the 
boat  shaped  by  his  own  hands,  when  he  should  have 
been  other Avise  employed.  It  pleases  another  to 
abuse  the  unfortunate  donkey  that  circumstances 
may  have  placed  in  his  power.  A  third  rejoices  in 
robbing  birds'  nests,  to  ihe  certain  destruction  of  his 
clothes,  or  in  climbing  crags  and  precipices  in  search 
of  young  hawks  and  owls,  at  the  risk  of  his  neck.  A 
fourth  lazily  reclines  on  the  grassy  sod,  and,  under 
the  noon-day  sun,  dreams  of  such  actions  as  the 
others  are  engaged  in.  But  Newton  cared  for  none 
of  these  things.  Almost  from  infancy  he  had  occu- 
pied his  mind  M'ith  study  ;  and  while  out  of  school, 
he  always  preferred  the  society  of  the  females  in  the 
house  where  he  lodged  to  tliat  of  his  thoughtless 
Bchoolfellows.  Among  the  former  was  a  young  lady, 
clever  and  attractive,  for  Avhom  he  conceived  a  juve- 
nile friendship,  which  gradually  ripened  into  a  more 
tender  feeling ;  but  circumstances  were  adverse,  and 
',t  camf  to  nothing'. 


I30YH00D  Ot'  SIR  ISAAC  NEWTON.  V  o 

On  his  arrival  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  his  relations 
•eeined  it  time  that  he  should  qualify  himself  fot 
what  seemed  his  natural  career.  Accordingly,  he 
was  summoned  from  his  studies  to  assist  in  farming 
the  small  estate  to  which  he  was  born,  and  returned 
to  Woolsthorpe  to  apply  himself,  as  they  expected,  to 
agriculture.  It  soon  became  evident,  however,  tnal 
he  would  never  flourish  as  a  farmer.  The  cultiva 
tion  of  the  soil,  the  breeding  of  sheep,  the  growth 
of  corn,  and  the  fattening  of  cattle,  were  not  subjects 
of  the  slightest  interest  to  him.  His  mind  was  too 
.rfirnestly  intent  on,  and  absorbed  in,  other  pursuits 
to  care  for  such  matters  ;  and  he  was  framing  some 
model,  getting  a  water-wheel  into  play,  or  solving  a 
difficult  problem,  little  recking  whether  his  wheat 
was  ripening  on  the  arable  land,  or  his  flocks  thriving 
in  the  green  pastures.  Neither,  when  sent  on  Sat- 
urday to  Grantham  market,  did  he  show  the  slight- 
est turn  for  selling  grain,  handling  pigs,  or  bargaining 
with  cattle-dealers  over  a  tankard  of  the  old  Saxon 
beverage.  On  the  contrary,  no  sooner  were  the 
horses  stabled  at  the  Saracen's  Head  Inn  than  he  ran 
off  to  his  former  quarters,  and  pored  over  some  dusty 
volume,  till  the  aged  servant  transacted  the  necessary 
business,  to  the  best  of  his  ability.  At  other  times, 
he  did  not  even  enter  the  town,  but,  sitting  down 
under  a  tree  by  the  wayside,  read  studiously  till  hia 
trusty  henchman  returned. 

It  was  under  such  circumstances  that  an  uncle  of 


176  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHERS. 

his,  who  was  rector  of  the  adjoining  parish,  toniid 
him  one  day  seated  under  a  hedge  reading  a  book, 
■which  so  completely  monopolized  his  attention  that 
he  was  totally  unaware  of  any  one  having  approach 
cd  the  spot.  The  reverend  gentleman  was,  in  no 
small  degree,  astonished  to  find  that  the  cause  of  his 
nephew's  abstraction  was  his  being  deeply  engaged  iu 
the  solution  of  a  mathematical  problem,  and  had  no 
hesitation  in  determinuig  that  nature  had  not  intend- 
ed him  for  rural  honors.  lie  therefore  employed  hi& 
influence  with  Newton's  mother  to  allow  the  young 
philosopher  to  betake  himself  to  those  fields  where  his 
genius  beckoned  him  ;  and,  there  appearing  no  pros- 
pect of  his  making  himself  very  useful  otherwise,  he 
was  sent  back  to  the  school  at  Grantham.  After 
remaining  there  for  a  few  months,  and  refreshing  his 
learning,  he  was,  to  his  joy,  sent  to  Cambridge,  and 
entered  at  Trinity  College. 

Of  his  studies  less  is  known  than  could  be  wish 
ed,  considering  the  results  to  which  they  led  ;  but 
Newton,  after  he  had  done  more  than  any  man  to 
extend  human  knowledge,  was  in  the  habit  of  speak- 
ing of  himself  as  having  been  all  his  life  as  "  a  child 
gathering  pebbles  on  the  sea-shore  ;"  thus  intimating 
that,  for  great  ends,  he  had  ever  been  ready  to  collect 
and  make  use  of  such  facts  as  came  in  his  way,  no 
matter  how  insignificant  they  might  at  first  sight  ap- 
pear. It  is  thus  only  that  extensive  information  is 
asquired,  memorable  discoveries  made,  and  high  deeds 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  ISAAC  JNEWTUiN.  177 

accomplished.  Small  matters  lead  to  and  make  up 
great,  just  as  the  boy  grows  to  be  a  man  ;  and  frac- 
tions of  true  knowledge  should  never  be  despised,  dis- 
regarded, nor  lost  sight  of — 

"  For  he  that  sees  his  wine-filled  vessell  drop 
(Although  a  drop  in  value  be  but  small) , 
Should  thence  occasion  take  the  leake  to  stop, 
Lest  many  dropings  draine  him  dry  of  all. 
Moreover,  they  that  will  to  greatness  rise, 
A  course  not  much  unlike  to  this  must  keepe . 
They  ought  not  small  beginnings  to  despise. 
Nor  strive  to  runne  before  they  learne  to  creepe 
By  many  single  cares  together  brought 
The  hand  is  filled  :  by  handfulls  we  may  gaine 
A  sheafe  :  with  many  sheaves  a  barne  is  fraught ; 
Thus  oft  by  little  we  doe  much  obtaine." 

So  says  an  old  writer  ;  and  so  seems  to  have  thought 
this  mighty  philosopher,  whose  name  is  exalted  high 
above  all  eulogy.  On  this  principle  he  appears  to  have 
acted  from  the  first ;  and  it  was  because  he  did  so 
that  he  had  made  many  of  his  grand  discoveries,  and 
laid  the  foundation  of  them  all  before  he  had  arrived 
m  his  sixth  lustre.  But  it  was  not  exclusively  in 
such  pursuits  that  his  leisure  time  was  employed  :  he 
was  fond  of  his  pencil,  and  attained  no  inconsiderable 
proficiency  in  drawing..  As  he  grew  older  he  varied 
his  amusements  by  writing  verses  ;  but  whether  they 
displayed  any  ghmmering  of  high  poetic  talent  is 
somewhat  more  than  doubtfu..  He  mentions  m  his 
uote-book  the  interesting  fact  that  in  1644  he  pur- 
M 


178  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHEKii. 

chased  a  prism,  by  means  of  which  he  investigate* 
the  properties  of  light ;  and,  after  much  careful  ob 
servation,  and  deep  study,  and  mature  reflection 
established  the  great  and  important  truth,  that  it 
consists  of  rays  differing  in  color  and  refrangibilitj'. 

"During  the  year  1666,"  says  Sir  David  Brew- 
ster, "  he  applied  himself  to  the  grinding  of  optic 
glasses  of  other  figures  than  spherical ;  and  having, 
no  doubt,  experienced  the  impracticability  of  execut- 
ing such  lenses,  the  idea  of  examining  the  phenom- 
ena of  color  was  one  of  those  sagacious  and  fortunate 
impulses  which  more  than  once  led  him  to  discovery." 
By  his  knowledge  acquired  of  glass  lenses,  and  the 
properties  of  light,  he  constructed  several  telescopes, 
the  most  perfect  and  powerful  of  which  was  sent  to 
the  Royal  Society,  in  whose  possession  it  is  still  care- 
fully preserved,  as  it  deserves  to  be.  But  the  break- 
ing out  of  the  plague  compelled  him  to  leave  Cam- 
bridge, and  to  spend  the  next  two  years  in  the  calm 
retirement  of  Woolsthorpe.  This  interruption  of  his 
academical  studies,  which  may,  at  first  sight  appear 
inopportune,  was,  perhaps,  calculated  to  refresh  tho 
spirit  and  invigorate  the  faculties  of  this  wonderful 
man.  In  his  refl.ections  on  what  he  had  already 
achieved  for  science,  he  would  find  the  seeds  cf  won- 
ders yet  to  be  performed,  and  acquire  that  rare 
strength  of  mind  which  prevented  him  giving  the 
results  of  his  meditations  in  an  imperfect  state  to  the 
world.     At  all  events,  it  is  certain  that  at  this  pe- 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  ISAAC  NEWTON.  179 

riod  occurred  to  him  the  idea  that  terminated  in  his 
discovering  the  system  of  the  universe,  which  forms 
the  chief  subject  of  his  immortal  "  Principia."  Sit- 
ting one  day  in  his  quiet  orchard,  he  observed  an  ap- 
ple fall  from  a  tree.  Pweflecting  on  the  i.ower  of  that 
principle  of  gravitation  by  which  it  was  brought  to 
the  ground,  this  simple  incident  formed  part  of  the 
great  thoughts  that  were  then  occupying  and  chasing 
each  other  through  his  capacious  mind ;  and  it  led 
him  gradually  to  his  knowledge  of  the  grand  law  of 
universal  gravitation,  which,  sixteen  years  later,  ho 
was  happily  enabled  advantageously  to  disclose,  and 
clearly  to  demonstrate. 

Meantime,  returning  to  Cambridge  he  had  taken 
his  degree  of  Master  of  Arts;  and,  in  1668,  been 
appointed  to  a  senior  fellowship.  Shortly  after  this 
he  became  Lucasian  Professor  of  Mathematics.  la 
1694,  one  of  his  college  friends,  Charles  Montague 
afterward  Earl  of  Halifax,  becoming  Chancellor  of 
the  Exchequer,  Newton  was,  by  his  influence,  ap 
pointed  Warden  of  the  Mint.  This  rendered  it  nee 
cssary  for  him  to  remove  to  London,  where  he  devot 
ed  himself  to  the  duties  of  his  office,  with  honor  to 
himself  and  advantage  to  the  country.  In  two  years 
he  was  promoted  to  the  Mastership  of  the  Mint,  and 
forthwith  honors  flowed  upon  him  in  abundance. 
He  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Royal  Academy  of 
Sciences  at  Paris,  instituted  in  1666.  In  1701  he 
was  returned  as  member  of  Parliament  for  his  Uni- 


180  NATURAL  PHlLOSOPHEUb. 

versity ;  and,  in  1705,  took  knighthood  from  thr 
hand  of  Queen  Anne,  on  the  occasion  of  her  visit  to 
Cambridge.  He  had  completed  the  publication  of 
his  "  Principia"  in  1687;  but,  in  172G  Avas  induced 
to  bring  out  a  third  and  much  enlarged  edition. 

The  habits  of  this  illustrious  man  were  of  the 
simplest  kind,  and  he  retained  his  powerful  faculties 
unimpaired  to  the  last  days  of  his  existence.  Though 
delighting  in  the  calm  society  of  a  few  congenial 
friends,  to  whom  he  would  unfold  the  priceless  treas- 
ures of  his  groat  mind,  he  latterly  declined  mixing 
much  in  general  company.  He  had  still,  it  would 
seem,  something  of  that  preference  for  studious  retire- 
ment which  had  prompted  him  when  a  little  boy  to 
withdraw  to  a  corner  of  the  school  playground 
Throughout  life  he  was  sincerely  and  significantly 
religious,  and  in  his  writings  ever  held  it  his  highest 
duty  to  assert  the  omnipotent  majesty  of  his  Creator. 

On  the  20th  of  March,  1727,  he  expired,  in  the 
eighty-fifth  year  of  his  life,  and  was  laid  at  rest  in 
Westminster  Abbey,  among  the  dust  of  those  who 
for  centuries  had  adorned  their  country.  In  the  gar- 
den at  Woolsthorpe,  which  has,  as  it  were,  been  con- 
secrated by  the  recollections  of  his  genius,  an  arm- 
chair, formed  from  the  wood  of  the  tree  from  which 
he  marked  the  fall  of  the  apple,  presents  an  interest- 
ing memorial  of  his  boyhood  and  youth.  A  brief 
inscription,  on  the  statue  erected  in  his  own  college 
at  Cambridge,  declares  him  to  have   surpassed  al] 


BOYHOOD  OF  GASSENDl.  Jff; 

men  in  genius.  In  the  great  aad  glorious  Abbej 
where  his  dust  reposes,  a  costly  monument  proclaims 
him  liumani  generis  decus.  This  is  high,  but  not 
too  high,  praise ;  for  of  all  the  statesmen,  heroes, 
kings,  whose  ashes  repose  within  those  hallowed  pre- 
cincts, not  one  has  left  a  name  at  once  so  stainless 
and  imperishable  as  that  of  this  high-priest  of  nature. 
It  is  well,  and  may  be  not  unprofitable,  to  reflect 
that  many  of  the  great  qualities  which  excite  our 
admiration  in  the  career  of  this  great  philosopher 
may  be  imitated  by  those  who  can  not  hope  to  vie 
with  him  in  the  splendor  of  his  genius,  or  add,  in  the 
slightest  degree,  to  his  unparalleled  discoveries. 


THE  BOYHOOD  OF  GASSENDL 

This  distinguished  man  ranks  as  one  of  the  great- 
est philosophers  whom  France  has  produced.  To 
philosophy  and  the  sciences  he  has  added  much,  cal- 
culated to  advance  respectively  their  various  ends. 
He  was  a  proficient  in  natural  history,  and  metaphy- 
sics, geometry,  anatomy,  astroiiomy,  medicine,  and 
biography,  and  besides  a  most  elegant  and  profound 
writer.  He  lived  at  a  time  when  modern  art  and 
science  were  in  their  infancy,  and  by  indefatigable 
industry,  and   laborious  and   ingenious  research,  ha 


82  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHERS. 

earned  the  honor  of  being  designated  as  "  Le  meillem 
philosophe  des  litterateurs,  et  le  meilleur  litterateuir 
des  philosophes." 

Pierre  Gassendi  was  born  ia  the  village  of  Chan- 
tersier,  near  Digne,  in  Provence,  on  the  22d  of  Janu- 
ary, 1592  He  was  the  son  of  pious,  benevolent, 
and  unpretending  parents,  whose  ambition  it  was 
to  inculcate  on  the  mind  of  their  child  principles  of 
goodwill  and  charity  to  all  men.  At  their  humble 
and  quiet  hearth  Gassendi  acquired  those  simple  and 
unassuming  manners  which  were  a  most  pleasin^ 
characteristic  throughout  his  studious  life.  Though 
Gassendi's  boyhood  displays  talent  of  most  remark- 
able development,  still  all  his  fame  must  not  be  at- 
tributed to  that  circumstance.  He  was  undoubtedly 
rarely  gifted  by  nature,  was  intrusted  with  abilities 
that  fall  to  the  lot  of  few ;  and  for  this  reason  atten- 
tion is  called  to  some  of  the  extraordinary  facts  re- 
lated of  him,  as  some  are  apt  to  give  to  nature  the 
credit  of  many  noble  achievements,  and  to  allow  little 
or  no  merit  in  him  who,  endowed  with  talent,  has, 
by  preseverance  and  untiring  industry,  proved  him- 
self entirely  worthy  of,  and  actively  grateful  for,  hia 
natural  capacities. 

Gassendi  was  only  four  years  of  age  when  the  study 
of  the  celestial  bodies  began  to  occupy  and  perplex 
his  brain.  He  would,  in  the  evening,  escape  from 
his  guardianess,  and  steal  into  an  adjoining  meadow, 
to   occupy  himself  in    contemplating  the   heavenly 


BOYHOOD  OF  GASSENDI.  183 

bodies.  With  what  mingled  awe  and  astonishment 
must  the  boy  philosopher  have  surveyed  a  firmament 
so  vast  and  mighty  I  Destitute  even  of  such  knowl- 
edge as  his  seniors  had  then  acquired,  what  feelings 
save  those  of  wonder  and  curiosity  could  have  lured 
the  timid  child  to  seek  the  dark  and  solitary  meadows  ? 
And  yet  something  more  than  these  must  have  stirred 
him ;  for  wonder,  long  unsatisfied  in  one  so  young, 
would  but  create  fear.  Some  feeble  ray  of  mighty 
truths  must  have  dawned  upon  his  young  brain — 
some  impulse  more  powerful  than  wonder — some 
search  for  truth  must  have  urged  his  nightly  wander- 
ings. He  had  scarcely  completed  his  seventh  year 
when  ho  satisfactorily  proved  to  his  companions  that 
it  was  the  clouds,  and  not  the  moon,  that  moved  so 
rapidly,  by  taking  them  under  a  tree,  and  telling 
them  to  look  steadily  between  the  branches,  when 
they  might  see  the  clouds  pass  on,  and  the  moon  ap- 
pear stationary.  In  the  day-time  he  found  much 
amusement  in  preaching  short  sermons,  or  in  deliver- 
ing mimic  lectures  to  his  juvenile  comjianions. 

When  ten  years  old  he  harangued  the  Bishop  of 
Digne,  during  his  pastoral  visit  to  Provence  :  and  he 
so  astonished  the  prelate  by  his  eloquence  and  judg- 
ment, that  the  churchman  assured  the  people  present 
of  his  confidence  that  a  high  and  a  brilliant  career 
awaited  the  young  philosopher. 

About  this  time  Gassendi  was  under  the  educational 
control  of  the  cure  of  his  native  villasre  and  the  teacher 


.84  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHERS. 

was  justly  proud  of  his  pupil.  At  his  studies  and 
lessons  he  was  the  most  intelligent,  as  well  as  the  most 
industrious,  in  the  school.  Not  satisfied  with  the 
learning  which  tuition  could  impart  to  him  in  the 
prescribed  hours  of  study,  he  used  to  retire  to  the 
chapel  after  the  classes  had  broken  up,  where,  by  the 
dull  light  of  a  lamp  which  was  kapt  continually  burn- 
ing there,  he  could  busy  himself  with  his  beloved  pur- 
suits. His  industry  soon  made  him  acquainted  with 
all  the  knowledge  the  village-school  could  furnish, 
and  he  was  accordingly  removed  to  an  estabhsment 
of  greater  pretensions  at  Digne,  where  his  attention 
was  almost  exclusively  given  to  rhetoric.  Here,  in 
his  leisure  hours,  he  wrote  several  little  comedies. 
Having  completed  his  studies  at  Digne,  he  repaired 
to  Aix,  to  go  through  a  course  of  philosophy. 

At  the  early  age  of  sixteen  Gasscndi  obtained  the 
Professorship  of  Pvhetoric  at  Digne.  His  parents 
destined  him  for  the  church  ;  and,  in  order  to  qualify 
him  for  this  avocation,  they  found  it  necessary  to  send 
him  back  to  Aix,  to  study  theology,  sacred  history, 
Greek,  and  Hebrew.  He  speedily  made  himself 
master  of  all  this  learning,  and  obtained  honors  for 
his  proficiency  in  theology.  Soon  after  the  comple- 
tion of  his  studies  he  took  the  Doctor's  gown  at 
Avignon,  and  was  nominated  prelate  of  the  chaptei 
of  that  town.  The  year  he  came  of  age  ho  was  of- 
fered at  the  same  time  the  professorships  of  philosophy 
atul  theology  io  the  University  of  Aix  ;  he  accepted 


BOYHOOD  or  GASSENDI.  1S4 

ihe  theological  professorship  only,  and  delivered  his 
first  lecture  extempore. 

The  subsequent  bright  career  of  Gassendi  presents 
such  a  striking  example  of  the  abundant  fruit  an 
early  industry  will  yield,  that  some  of  the  honors 
with  which  his  learning  loaded  him  may  be  hero 
briefly  mentioned.  In  1G38  Gassendi  was  honored 
with  the  esteem  and  friendship  of  Louis  de  Valois, 
afterward  Duke  of  Angouleme,  who  not  only  said  he 
appreciated  the  great  learning  of  the  philosopher,  but 
proved  that  he  did  so  by  aiding  him  in  his  arduous 
researches. 

Gassendi's  habits  had  remained  unchanged.  He 
never  rose  later  than  four  in  the  morning — sometimes 
at  two.  He  studied  until  eleven,  unless  some  visit 
interrupted  him.  He  was  neither  vain-glorious  nor 
bad-tempered,  but  as  mild  and  tractable  as  a  child, 
and  nothing  gave  him  greater  pleasure  than  to  have 
a  question  proposed  to  him  involving  some  difficulty. 
In  the  afternoon  he  again  studied  from  two  or  three 
o'clock  until  eight,  and  retired  to  rest  between  nine 
and  ten.  There  was  not  a  book  on  science  or  the 
belles-lettres  which  he  had  not  perused,  and  his  learned 
writings  gave  evidence  that  what  he  had  read  he  re- 
tained and  profited  by. 

During  all  the  political  agitations  Gassendi  had 
been  exposed  to  their  violence  ;  and  tc  recompense 
his  fidelity,  the  Duke  of  Angouleme  used  his  influence 
to  obtain  for  him  the  agency-general  of  the  clergy ; 


180  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHERS. 

but  he,  preferring  tranquillity  to  fortune,  abandoned 
his  claim  to  a  rival.  Subsequently  Gassendi  was 
nearly  nominated  tutor  to  Louis  the  Fourteenth 
He  was  appointed  lecturer  on  mathematics  to  the 
College-Royal  of  France.  Queen  Christina  of  Swe- 
den sou"-ht  a  correspondence  with  him.  He  possessed 
tJic  friendship  of  Frederick  the  Third,  king  of  Den 
mark,  several  of  the  French  princes,  the  Cardinal  do 
Retz,  and,  indeed,  of  all  the  celebrated  men  of  his 
day,  who  were  prompt  to  acknowledge  his  greatness, 
and  justly  proud  to  call  themselves  his  friends. 

This  great  man  died  on  the  14th  of  October,  1G55  , 
he  fell  a  victim  to  the  extraordinary  bleeding  mania 
which  prevailed  at  that  period.  In  the  chapel  of 
Saint  Joseph,  at  Saint  Nicolas-des-Champs,  may  be 
seen  the  mausoleum  of  him  whose  untiring  diligence 
and  high  talent  had  made  him  the  boasted  philoso- 
pher of  France,  and  furnishes  a  worthy  example  to 
posterity. 


THE  BOYHOOD  OF  FRANKLIN. 

The  life  of  Franklin  presents  to  youth  a  model 
most  worthy  of  respect  and  imitation.  Born  in  a 
humble  sphere,  and  enjoying  no  advantage  save  that 
of  a  powerful  intellect,  we  find  him,  by  the  exercise 
of  invincible  perseverance,  ere  long  as  the  representa- 


BOYHOOD  OF  FRANKLL\.  187 

live  of  his  native  land,  in  whose  affairs  he  acted  so 
conspicuous  a  part,  receiving  the  homage  of  the  most 
polished  court  in  Europe,  and  defying  the  wrath  of 
the  most  powerful  country  in  the  world.  How  he 
attained  so  prominent  a  position  is  a  question  which 
may  well  occupy  the  attention  of  any  boy  who  aims 
at  distinction.  Fortunately,  he  himself  has  told  the 
story  of  his  early  life  in  a  letter  to  his  son,  which 
leaves  no  doubt  as  to  the  means  of  his  success.  Per- 
severance and  self-denial  have  raised  many  to  eminence, 
but  never  were  they  more  signally  triumphant  than 
in  the  case  of  the  remarkable  man  who  "  grasped  the 
lightning's  fiery  wing." 

Franklin  did  not,  like  the  mighty  Enghsh  philoso- 
pher, bring  to  his  experiments  an  intellect  disciplined 
from  youth  in  scientific  investigations.  Indeed,  it 
was  not  until  he  had  reached  mature  manhood  that, 
with  a  mind  schooled  by  severe  experience,  he  turned 
his  attention  to  the  subjects  on  which  he  made  those 
invaluable  discoveries  which  are  the  most  honorable 
monuments  of  his  high  abilities  and  his  strong  determ- 
ination. 

His  father  was  a  tallow-chandler  and  soap-boiler 
in  Boston,  North  America,  who,  in  1682,  had  emi- 
grated from  England  with  his  wife,  three  children, 
and  several  of  his  friends,  on  account  of  their  being 
denied  that  freedom  of  worship  which  they  deemed 
essential  to  their  welfare  and  happiness.  His  mother 
was  a  daughter  of  Peter  Folger,  of  whom  honorable 


188  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHERS. 

mention  is  made  as  one  of  the  earliest  New  Eng.and 
settlers.  Of  his  father's  seventeen  children  Franklin 
.vas  the  youngest,  with  the  exception  of  two  daugh- 
ters. He  was  a  suprisingly  quick  child,  and,  having 
learned  to  read,  was  sent  to  a  grammar-school,  with 
the  intention  of  his  being  educated  as  a  clergyman. 
This  plan  was,  for  a  short  time,  resolutely  pursued 
by  his  father,  and  encouraged  by  his  relations,  especial- 
ly an  uncle,  who  ofiered  to  give  him,  as  his  contribu- 
tion, several  volumes  of  sermons,  which  he  had  taken 
down  in  short-hand  from  the  different  preachers  whom 
he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  hearing  This  individual 
by  trade  a  silk-dyer,  had  read  much,  and  had  con- 
vinced himself  of  his  poetic  powers  by  filling  two 
volumes  with  manuscript  verse.  But  to  make  the 
tallow-chandlei-'s  means  sufficient  to  defray  the  cost 
of  his  son's  education  for  the  Church  defied  his  in- 
genuity ;  and  Benjamin  was  forced  to  abandon  the 
prospect  of  clerical  honors. 

He  was  now  put  to  learn  writing  and  arithmetic, 
and  speedily  wrote  a  good  hand,  but  the  mysteries 
of  arithmetic  baffled  his  comprehension.  Removed 
""rom  school  at  the  age  of  ten,  he  was  placed  in  the 
establishment  of  his  father,  who,  having  apprenticed 
his  other  sons  to  various  trades,  probably  looked  for- 
ward to  the  youngest  succeeding  him  in  his  own.  In 
this,  however,  he  was  deceived  ;  for  Benjamin  being 
employed,  as  he  himself  relates,  m  cutting  the  wicks 
ior  candles,  filling  moulds,  going  errands,  and  similar 


BOYHOOD  OF  FRANKLIN.  189 

drudgery,  conceived  so  strong  a  disgust  at  the  busi* 
ness,  that  he  made  up  his  mind  rather  to  go  to  sea 
than  remain  at  it.  One  of  his  brothers  had.  freed 
himself  from  restraint  in  this  way  before,  and  his 
father  not  relishing  a  second  catastrophe  of  the  kind 
in  his  family,  considered  it  prudent  to  find  some  con- 
genial occupation  for  his  youngest  son.  He  therefore 
carried  him  round  to  see  a  great  many  different  trades- 
men at  their  work,  and  the  result  was  an  agree- 
ment that  he  should  be  apprenticed  to  a  cousin  who 
had  just  set  up  as  a  cutler  in  Boston  ;  but,  after 
having  been  several  days  at  work,  his  father,  think- 
ing the  required  fee  too  much,  resolved  to  withdraw 
him.  Upon  this,  he  was,  somewhat  against  his  will, 
indentured  to  his  brother  James ;  who,  having  been 
bred  a  printer,  had  just  returned  from  England,  and 
commenced  business  for  himself  in  his  native  city. 

This  was,  in  one  respect,  an  advantageous  situa- 
tion for  Franklin,  as  it  tended  to  encourage  him  in 
that  system  of  reading  which,  almost  from  infancy, 
he  had  manifested  a  strong  inclination  to  pursue. 
His  father's  limited  library  consisted  chiefly  of  books 
on  controversial  divinity — a  subject  not  extremely  in- 
teresting to  so  young  a  reader  ;  but  among  them  was 
a  copy  of  "  Plutarch's  Lives,"  read  over  and  over 
again  by  him  with  profit  and  pleasure.  Another 
was  Defoe's  "  Essay  on  Projects,"  which  he  perused 
eagerly.  Besides,  he  applied  such  small  sums  as 
came  into  his  possession  to  the  purchase  of  Bunjan'a 


i90  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHERS. 

works,  subsequently  bartered  for  Briton's  "  Historical 
Collections." 

In  after  years  lie  often  expressed  his  regret  that,  at 
the  time  when  his  thirst  for  knowledge  was  so  great, 
books  were  not  within  his  reach  ;  though  possibly  it 
w^as  from  reading  much,  and  not  many  books,  that 
his  mind  acquired  its  peculiar  energy,  and  the  rare 
faculty  of  making  small  means  work  out  mighty  ends. 
But,  when  placed  in  his  brother's  printing-office,  he 
was  enabled  considerably  to  extend  his  knowledge  by 
borrowing  volumes  from  booksellers'  apprentices.  On 
such  occasions  he  would  sit  up  all  night  reading,  so 
that  they  might  be  restored  in  the  morning  to  their 
place  on  the  shelf  His  studious  habits  attracted  the 
attention,  and  engaged  the  interest,  of  a  merchant 
who  was  frequently  about  the  printing-office,  and 
who,  desirous  of  facilitating  his  pursuit  of  knowledge, 
kindly  invited  him  to  avail  himself  of  the  tolerably 
well-stocked  library  he  possessed.  The  offer  thus 
made  was,  of  course,  gladly  accepted  and  much  profit- 
ed by.  At  lengtli  Franklin  felt  ambitious  of  trying 
his  skill  at  composition,  and,  disdaining  humble  prose, 
attempted  some  pieces  of  poetry.  These  so  pleased 
his  brother  that  he  induced  Franklin  to  write  two 
ballads,  which,  on  their  being  printed,  he  sent  him 
to  sell  about  the  streets.  One  of  them  being  on  a 
subject  that  had  created  a  deep  sensation,  they  sold 
prodigiously,  and  so  far  all  was  well;  but  his  father, 
who,  though  by  no  means  blessed  with  much  literary 


BOYHOOD  OF  FRANKLIN  VI. 

culture,  appears  to  have  been  gifted  with  a  large  share 
of  common  sense,  convinced  him  that  they  were  in 
reality  wretched  productions,  and  that  he  should  \vrit-p 
no  more  of  them.  Moreover,  he  brought  forwart' 
the  argument  that  verse-makers  had  always  beer 
beggars  from  Homer  downward,  which  appeared  sc 
conclusive  to  the  philosophic  Benjamin,  that  he  there- 
upon resolved  to  be  any  thing  rather  "  than  one  of 
these  same  metre-balladmongers." 

However,  his  attention  was  shortly  turned  into  ncM 
pastures.  An  intimate  friend  being,  like  himself 
fond  of  books,  was  in  the  habit  of  arguing  with  him 
on  such  subjects  as  struck  them  in  the  course  of  theii 
reading.  Happening  one  day  to  raise  the  question  of 
the  abilities  of  women,  and  the  propriety  of  giving 
them  a  learned  education,  Franklin  warmly  main- 
tained their  fitness  for  the  severer  studies.  But 
whether  or  not  it  vi^as  that  he  had  entered  the  lists 
rather  in  the  spirit  of  contradiction  than  in  that  of 
chivalry,  it  is  certain  that  he  was  worsted  in  the  con- 
flict. Attributing  this  to  his  antagonist's  greater 
flow  of  words,  and  believing  his  own  reasoning  to  be 
the  stronger,  he  drew  up  his  case  on  paper,  and, 
making  a  careful  copy,  sent  it  for  the  other's  perusal. 
This  occasioned  a  correspondence,  which  fortun  ately 
fell  into  the  hands  of  his  father,  who,  with  his  usual 
acuteness  and  sagacity,  pointed  out  the  faults  in  the 
composition. 

Resolved  to  improve  his  style,  Franklin  set  about 


192  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHERS. 

the  matter  with  his  characteristic  energy,  and  had 
the  good  fortune  to  take  for  his  model  one  of  the  best 
which  the  literature  of  England  furnishes.  This  was 
the  "  Spectator,"  of  which  he  accidentally  became 
possessed  of  an  odd  volume.  With  a  view  to  imitate 
its  style  he  labored  with  great  industry,  and  in  the 
end  was  encouraged,  by  his  success,  to  hope  that  he 
might  one  day  become  a  tolerable  English  writer,  of 
which  he  was  very  ambitious. 

True  to  the  cultivation  of  his  mind  to  the  utmost 
extent  in  his  power,  he  practiced  self-denial  to  a  de- 
gree which  has  seldom  been  equaled.  Thus,  at  the 
age  of  sixteen,  meeting  with  a  book  recommending 
a  vegetable  diet,  its  great  cheapness  immediately  de- 
termined him  to  adopt  it.  For  this  he  assigns  two 
reasons — the  first  being,  that  it  enabled  him  to  bar- 
gain with  his  brother  to  give  him  half  the  sum  that 
his  board  had  hitherto  cost  to  support  himself;  the 
second,  that  his  repasts  being  much  more  easily  and 
quickly  dispatched  than  those  of  the  other  printers, 
he  could  devote  the  greater  part  of  meal-time  to  his 
studies.  About  this  time  he  made  himself  master  of 
the  science  of  arithmetic,  which  he  had  in  vain  at- 
tempted at  school,  and  acquired  some  slight  acquaint- 
ance with  geometry. 

Having  read  Locke  "  On  the  Human  Understand- 
ing," and  the  "  Port-Uoyal  Art  of  Thinking,"  and 
profited  by  some  "  Sketches  on  Logic  and  Rhetoric," 
which  h^  found  at  the  end  of  an  English  Grammar 


BOYHOOD  OF  FRANKLIN.  1U3 

Franklin  found  an  opportunity  of  trying  his  strength 
as  a  writer,  and  giving  evidence  of  the  benefit  derived 
from  those  studies  for  which  he  had  sacrificed  his 
meals  by  day,  and  his  rest  by  night. 

His  brother  had,  in  1720,  speculated  in  the  publi- 
cation of  a  newspaper,  which  was  the  second  that 
appeared  in  America,  and  known  as  the  "  The  New 
England  Courant."  This  brought  literary  men  of 
Boston  frequently  to  the  printing-office,  where  Frank- 
lin heard  them  discussing  the  merits  of  the  diflerent 
articles  that  appeared.  In  this  way  he  was  led  to 
the  desire  of  signalizing  his  prowess  in  its  columns  ; 
and  having  written  a  paper  in  a  disguised  hand,  he 
put  it  at  night  under  the  door.  On  being  submitted 
to  the  Boston  critics,  it  met  with  particular  approval, 
and,  in  their  guesses  at  the  author,  no  one  was  men- 
tioned but  men  of  some  mark  in  the  town.  Thus 
encouraged,  he  continued  for  some  time  to  write  in 
the  same  way,  keeping  his  secret  till  curiosity  was 
raised  high ;  and,  when  he  disclosed  it,  he  found 
himself  treated  as  a  person  of  some  consequence  by 
his  brother's  literary  acquaintances. 

His  brother,  however,  did  not  exhibit  any  sign  of 
joy  at  the  efibrts  being  successful.  In  fact,  he  had 
always  treated  Franklin  with  any  thing  rather  than 
indulgence,  and  been  in  the  habit  of  beating  him 
with  a  harshness  which  often  rendered  an  appeal  to 
their  father  necessary.  The  decision  was  usually 
given  in  Benjamin's  favor ;  but,  whether  from  hii* 
N 


194  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHERS. 

having  been  generally  in  the  right,  or  that  he  was 
the  better  pleader,  he  does  not  take  upon  himself  to 
decide.  This  had  made  him  anxious  for  an  opportunity 
of  shortening  his  apprenticeship,  and  at  length  one 
was  presented. 

An  article  in  his  newspaper  gave  so  much  offense 
to  the  local  government,  that  the  printer  was  cen- 
sured and  imprisoned.  During  the  time  that  his 
brother  was  in  durance,  Benjamin,  whose  studies  had 
never  been  allowed  to  interfere  with  proper  attention 
to  his  business,  conducted  the  paper ;  and,  notwith- 
standing the  rigor  shown  by  the  Assembly,  criticised 
its  proceedings  with  great  courage  and  severity. 
Moreover,  he  had  managed  matters  so  well,  that 
when  James  was  released,  and  ordered  no  longer  to 
print  the  newspaper,  it  was  resolved,  by  those  who 
took  an  interest  in  it,  that  in  future  it  should  be 
printed  in  Benjamin's  name.  At  the  same  time, 
lest  the  former  proprietor  should  be  accused  of  merely 
screening  himself  behind  one  of  his  apprentices,  the 
indentures  were  discharged.  But,  in  order  to  secure 
his  brother's  services  to  the  end  of  the  time  formerly 
agreed  on,  James  devised  the  flimsy  scheme  of  mak- 
ing him  sign  new  indentures,  which  were  to  be  kept 
secret.  Having  thus  settled  matters,  as  he  imagined, 
the  elder  brother,  in  a  month,  or  two,  resorted  to  the 
old  mode  of  maltreating  him ;  and  Franklin,  aware 
that  he  durst  not  produce  the  private  indenture,  as- 
serted his  freedom. 


BOYHOOD  OF  FKANKLIN.  195 

James  look  the  only  species  of  revenge  in  his 
power,  that  of  cautioning  every  printer  in  Boston 
against  employing  him  ;  so  that,  after  duly  weigh- 
ing and  considering  all  the  circumstances,  Benjamin 
saw  no  other  course  open  than  to  go  and  try  his  for- 
tune in  New  York.  Knowing,  however,  that  if  his 
father  were  apprised  of  his  intention,  he  would  oppose 
this  step,  it  was  found  necessary  to  go  without  his 
leave.  Franklin,  therefore,  having  raised  a  little 
money  by  the  sale  of  his  books,  took  his  passage  in  a 
sloop,  and  the  breeze  being  favorable,  set  foot  on  the 
quay  at  New  York  in  three  days.  Here  he  met  with 
no  success  in  his  applications  for  work,  but  was  ad- 
vised to  proceed  to  Philadelphia,  where  he  arrived 
after  a  passage  that  threw  him  into  a  fever.  This  he 
allayed  with  copious  draughts  of  cold  water,  and  land- 
ed in  a  condition  which  he  describes  as  most  miserable. 

Next  morning  he  set  out  to  seek  for  employment, 
which  he  found  with  a  printer  named  Keimer,  who 
sent  him  to  lodge  at  the  house  of  a  Mr.  Read,  whose 
daughter  he  immediately  fell  in  love  with,  and  after 
ward  married.  Accidentally  a  letter  written  by  him 
to  a  brother-in-law  was  shown  to  the  Governor  of 
the  province,  who  thereupon  introduced  himself 
to  Franklin,  and  persuaded  him  that  he  should 
immediately  estabhsh  himself  as  a  printer  at  Phil- 
adelphia. Thus  incited,  he  made  a  voyage  to 
Boston,  with  a  letter  from  the  Governor  to  his 
father,  recommending  the  undertaking  ;  but  the  old 
vhandler  refused  to  enter  into  the  scheme,  or  advance 


196  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHERS. 

the  requisite  capital,  and  Franklin  was  compelled  tc 
return  to  Philadelphia,  without  having  in  any  degree 
advanced  the  matter. 

On  communicating  his  father's  resolution  to  the 
Governor,  the  latter  declared  that  he  would  advance 
the  money  himself;  so  it  was  arranged  that  the 
young  philosopher  should  sail  to  England  by  the  first 
vessel,  with  letters  of  credit  to  the  extent  of  a  hun- 
dred pounds,  with  which  to  purchase  the  types  and 
other  articles  necessary. 

On  arriving  in  London  Franklin  discovered,  to  his 
horror  and  dismay,  that  the  Governor's  letters  of 
credit  were  utterly  useless  :  and,  thus  thrown  on  his 
own  resources,  he  offered  his  services  to  a  printer  in 
Bartholomew  Close,  who  accepted  them,  and  was 
highly  satisfied  with  the  proofs  he  gave  of  sobriety, 
industry,  and  economy.  In  this  position  he  remained 
for  a  year,  at  the  end  of  which  he  was  ofl'ered  a 
clerkship  in  a  store  to  be  opened  in  Philadelphia. 
Influenced  by  a  desire  to  return  to  his  native  country, 
he  accepted  the  offer,  and,  after  a  long  voyage,  ar- 
rived at  his  destination,  in  October,  1726. 

His  master  dying  at  the  end  of  six  months, 
Franklin  returned  to  his  former  employment.  He 
soon  formed  a  business  of  his  own,  and  undertook  the 
management  of  a  newspaper,  which,  in  his  hands 
was  successful  beyond  all  expectation.  He  was  ap 
pointed  printer  to  the  House  of  Assembly,  and,  ir 
173G,  its  clerk.  The  Governor  placed  his  name  on 
the  commission  of  the  peace,  <.he  corporation  of  the 


BOYHOOD  OF  FRANKLIN.  197 

city  chose  him  one  of  the  common  council,  and  soon 
after  an  alderman,  and  the  citizens  elected  him  as 
their  representative  in  the  Assembly. 

It  was  in  the  year  1746  that  Franklin's  attention 
was  directed,  with  his  usual  earnestness  of  purpose, 
to  those  electrical  studies  which  led  to  his  discovery 
of  the  great  theory  of  electricity,  and  secured  him 
undying  fame.  Happening  to  meet  at  Boston  with 
a  Dr.  Spence,  who  had  just  returned  from  Scotland, 
he  witnessed  some  experiments,  not  very  expertly 
made  by  that  individual.  By  the  exercise  of  his 
characteristic  perseverance,  he  was  enabled,  in  June. 
1752,  to  perform  that  celebrated  achievement  which 
sent  his  fame  through  Europe.  When  his  electrical 
discoveries  were  first  announced  in  England  they 
attracted  little  notice ;  and  his  paper,  on  being  read 
to  the  Pvoyal  Society,  appeared  so  absurd  as  to  meet 
with  nothing  but  ridicule.  But  the  subject  having 
made  great  noise  on  the  Continent,  and  being  much 
spoken  of  generally,  the  members  were  induced  to  re- 
consider the  matter  ;  and,  one  of  their  number  hav- 
ing verified  the  grand  experiment  of  bringing  down 
lightning  from  the  clouds,  they  made  ample  amends 
for  their  mistake  by  electing  him  a  member,  and  pre- 
senting him  with  the  Copley  Medal  for  1753,  which 
was  accompanied  by  a  very  kind  and  gratifying 
speech  from  the  President;  Lord  Macclesfield.  Some 
years  after  the  degree  of  LL.D.  was  conferred  on 
him  by  the  University  of  St.  Andrews,  and  subse- 
quently by  that  of  Oxford. 


I'j8  natural  PHILO.SOPHERfe. 

In  1763  he  signed  the  treaty  of  peace  with  En- 
gland which  recognized  the  independence  of  the  Unit 
ed  States  ;  and,  on  returning  home  in  1785,  he  was 
chosed  President  of  the  Supreme  Executive  Council 
by  his  grateful  countrymen.  On  the  17th  of  April, 
1790,  he  died,  full  of  years  and  honors;  leaving  a 
striking  example  of  how  much  industry  will  do  in 
advancing  the  fortunes  of  its  possessor,  Avhen  fairly 
and  properly  exercised  and  applied. 

"  Nothing,"  it  has  been  said,  "can  be  accomplish- 
ed without  a  fixed  purpose — a  concentration  of  mind 
and  energy.  Whatever  you  attempt  to  do,  whether  it 
be  the  writing  of  an  essay,  or  whittling  of  a  stick,  let 
it  be  done  as  well  as  you  can  do  it.  It  was  this  that 
made  Franklin  and  Newton,  and  hundreds  whose 
labors  have  been  of  incalculable  service  to  mankind. 
Fix  your  mind  closely  and  intently  on  what  you 
undertake — in  no  other  way  can  you  have  a  reasona 
ble  hope  of  success.  An  energy  that  dies  in  a  day  is 
good  for  nothing — an  hour's  fixed  attention  will 
never  avail.  The  inventions  that  bless  mankind 
were  not  the  result  of  a  few  moments'  thought  and 
investigation.  A  lifetime  has  often  been  given  to  a 
single  object.  If  you,  then,  have  a  desire  to  bless 
your  species,  or  to  get  to  yourself  a  glorious  name, 
fix  your  mind  upon  something,  and  let  it  remain 
fixed." 


CHAPTER  IX. 
iilatl)«matician5 


BOYHOOD  OF  PASCAL. 

This  great  and  sublime  genius  was  as  pure  and 
blameless  in  boyhood  as  he  was  noble  and  high- 
minded  in  his  too  few  after-years.  France,  which 
produced  him,  and  the  world,  which  profited  by  his 
labors,  have  reason  to  feel  pride  and  gratitude  in 
reflecting  on  his  performances  and  example.  Few 
have  surpassed  him  for  diligence  in  his  studies,  devo- 
tion to  religion,  and  sympathy  with  the  wants  of 
others.  His  hfe  is,  indeed,  one  which  may  well  in- 
spire others  to  indulge  in  lofty  and  pious  aspirations, 
and  to  exert  themselves  to  render  their  faculties  of 
service  to  mankind. 

Blaise  Pascal  was  born  on  the  19th  of  June, 
1623,  at  Clermont,  a  city  of  Auvergne.  His  father 
appears  to  have  been  a  man  of  simple  mind,  but  of 
sound  sense  and  great  attainments,  and,  aided  by  his 
wife,  managed  to  bring  up  his  three  children  with- 
out having  recourse  to  a  public  school.     Indeed,  to  a 


200  MATHEMATICIANS. 

competent  knowledge  of  his  own  profession,  the  law 
he  added  such  considerable  proficiency  in  natural 
philosophy  and  mathematics  as  had,  no  doubt,  an 
important  influence  in  guiding  the  inclination  of  his 
son  toward  those  pursuits  with  which  his  name  is 
now  inseparably  associated.  Young  Pascal's  won 
derful  readiness  gave  his  father  great  faith  in  his 
reaching  eminence  ;  and,  under  the  parental  guid- 
ance, he  mastered  with  unusual  quickness  the  ele- 
ments of  language  and  of  general  science.  One  of 
his  peculiar  characteristics  at  this  early  age,  and 
which  tended  materially  to  promote  his  subsequent 
success,  was  the  dauntless  perseverance  with  which 
he  prosecuted  inquiries  into  causes,  and  the  faculty 
he  possessed  of  arriving  at  sound  and  comprehensive 
conclusions.  It  is  related,  as  an  instance  of  the 
results  of  his  industry  in  this  respect,  that,  when 
only  eleven  years  old,  having  heard  a  plate,  on  being 
struck,  sound  forth  a  musical  vibration,  which  ceased 
on  a  second  touch,  he  made  the  effect  the  subject  of 
his  daily  study  and  meditation,  and  thus  produced  a 
treatise  on  the  nature  of  sounds.  The  elder  Pascal, 
observing  the  bent  of  his  son's  mind,  determined  to 
check  it  for  a  time,  lest  its  encouragement  should  in- 
terfere with  and  impede  his  progress  in  classical  and 
other  requisite  studies.  With  this  view,  he  requested 
his  friends  to  be  quite  silent  in  regard  to  scientific 
subjects  in  his  son's  presence  ;  and,  though  the  youth 
begged  earnestly  to  be  allowed  to  study  mathematics 


BOYHOOD  OF  PASCAL.  201 

it  was  thought  necessary  to  repress  his  inclination, 
and  to  inform  him  that  he  must  be  kept  in  total  ignor- 
ance of  the  science  till  he  had  mastered  the  Greek 
and  Latin  languages. 

Madame  Perier,  in  her  simple  and  touching  me- 
moir of  her  brother,  thus  writes  : 

"My  brother,  perceiving  his  fathir's  objection  to 
his  immediate  study  of  geometry,  asked  what  the 
science  treated  of?  My  father  answered  that  it  was 
the  science  which  taught  the  accurate  making  of 
figures  and  their  relative  proportions.  He  then  for- 
bade him  to  speak  to  him  on  the  subject  or  to  think 
of  it.  But  his  ardent  spirit  would  not  thus  be  curb- 
ed ;  this  simple  communication,  that  mathematics 
showed  the  way  to  make  figures  inevitably  just, 
made  the  subject  that  of  his  continual  consideration 
in  his  leisure  hours.  In  his  play-room  he  drew 
figures  with  charcoal  upon  the  windows,  puzzling 
himseli"  as  to  how  he  could  make  a  circle  perfectly 
round,  a  triangle  of  equal  sides,  and  other  figures  of  a 
like  description.  All  this  he  discovered  alone.  Then 
ho  would  find  the  proportions  these  figures  bore  to  each 
other.  My  father  had  been  so  careful  to  keep  him  in 
ignorance  of  these  things,  that  he  did  not  even  know 
the  names  of  the  figures  he  drew.  He  was  hence 
obliged  to  give  them  names  of  his  own  :  he  called  a 
circle  a  round,  a  line  a  bar.  Sec.  Having  thus  named 
the  figures,  he  made  axioms,  and,  lastly,  perfect  de- 
monstrations.    He  carried  his  researches  so  far,  that 


202  MATHEMATICIANS. 

he  had  reached  the  thirty-second  pi'oposition  of  the 
first  book  of  Euchd,  when  my  father  surprised  him  at 
his  studies;  but  Blaise  was  so  engrossed  in  them,  that 
it  was  some  time  before  he  was  aware  of  my  father's 
presence.  It  is  difficult  to  say  who  was  the  most  sur- 
prised— my  father,  to  find  his  son  so  well  versed  in 
these  matters,  or  my  brother,  from  fear  of  the  consc- 
ience of  disobedience.  My  father,  questioning  him 
as  to  the  nature  of  his  studies,  Blaise  explained  the 
question  he  was  then  occupied  with,  which  turned 
out  to  be  the  thirty-second  proposition  of  Euclid. 
Being  asked  what  had  made  him  think  of  it,  he  an- 
swered that  he  had  found  such  and  such  a  thing ; 
and  being  again  pressed  for  a  more  detailed  account 
of  his  researches,  he  proceeded  to  give  at  length  a  re- 
trospect of  his  labors,  always  explaining  with  his  own 
words,  '  round  and  bar.'  " 

The  elder  Pascal  hastened  to  communicate  the 
discovery  to  a  friend,  but  was  for  some  time  so  over- 
powered with  astonishment  as  to  remain  quite  speech- 
less. However,  when  he  had  mustered  voice  he  said, 
"  It  is  not  with  grief  I  cry,  but  with  joy.  You  are 
aware  how  careful  I  have  been  to  keep  my  son  in  ig- 
norance of  geometry,  lest  it  should  interfere  with  his 
other  studies — notwithstanding,  look  here  !"  Having 
minutely  related  the  interview,  his  friend  advised  him 
no  longer  to  restrain  the  youth's  inclination,  but  to 
aflbrd  hirn  every  opportunity  of  improvement.  Our 
young  mathematician  wa?  accordingly  permitted  to 


BOYHOOD  OF  PASCAL.  203 

pursue  his  favorite  science ;  and,  when  only  twelve 
years  of  age,  is  said  to  have  read  the  "  Elements  of 
Euclid"  through,  without  having  need  of  any  assist- 
ance. 

The  father  of  Pascal  had,  in  1G2G,  lost  his  wife; 
and  in  1G31  he  removed  with  his  family  to  Paris, 
where  he  numbered  among  his  acquaintances  many 
men  of  high  scientific  eminence.  In  their  company 
his  son  sat  a  delighted  and  attentive  listener,  imbib- 
ing knowledge  from  the  conversation  of  the  learned 
and  talented  circle.  This  made  him  more  and  more 
enthusiastic  in  his  pursuits  ;  he  began  to  take  a  part 
in  the  discussion  of  subjects,  and  his  remarks  were 
found  extremely  useful.  At  these  meetings  the  writ- 
ings of  the  difierent  gentlemen  were  read  and  criti- 
cised ;  and,  while  duly  expressing  his  admiration  of 
their  excellences,  he  olten,  with  becoming  respect  to 
his  elders,  pointed  out  errors  that  had  been  overlook- 
ed. His  own  productions  were  read  with  much 
applause  ;  and  in  his  fourteenth  year  he  composed 
essays  and  treatises  evincing  strong  sense,  and  distin- 
guished by  great  purity  of  style. 

Though  the  hours  devoted  by  other  boys  to  pas- 
times were  alone  given  up  by  Pascal  to  mathematics, 
his  progress  was  remarkably  rapid.  At  sixteen  he 
had  written  a  treatise  on  conic  sections,  which  gave 
all  that  the  ancients  could  say  on  the  subject ;  and, 
before  he  had  reached  nineteen,  he  invented  the  fa- 
mous arithmetical  machine  that  bears  his  name  and 


m-i  MATHEMATICIANS. 

testifies  his  success.  While  he  was  still  young  mo 
family  removed  to  Rouen,  ou  his  father  being  ap- 
pointed intendant,  and  there  they  remained  for  seven 
years.  During  this  period  Pascal  pursued  his  studies 
with  such  diligence  as  to  bring  on  symptoms  of  a  de- 
cline. Having  studied  physics  while  in  this  tempo- 
rary retirement,  he  established  the  celebrated  theory 
of  Galileo's  pupil,  Torricelli. 

He  subsequently  published  an  account  of  his  ex- 
periments, which  he  dedicated  to  his  father  ;  nor  did 
he  rest  satisfied  until  he  had  written  two  pamphlets, 
one  on  the  equilibrium  of  liquids,  and  the  other  on  the 
weight  of  the  atmosphere. 

Such  are  the  events  of  Pascal's  boyhood  and  youth, 
as  related  by  his  sister.  Sickness  and  consequent  de- 
bility put  an  end  to  the  efforts  of  his  splendid  genius,  and 
he  passed  the  last  eight  years  of  his  life  in  preparing 
for  that  death  which  he  felt  was  approaching.  Con- 
ceiving that  his  beloved  pursuits  were  not  such  as 
should  take  up  the  time  and  attention  of  a  man  on  the 
borders  of  another  world,  he  practiced  almost  total 
abstinence  from  his  former  labors.  In  this  season  of 
sickness,  depression,  and  seclusion,  he  wrote  and  pub- 
lished his  celebrated  "  Provincial  Letters,"  attacking 
and  exposing  the  casuistry  of  the  Jesuits.  They  are 
distinguished  no  less  by  the  style  and  reasoning  than 
by  an  abundance  of  wit  and  humor,  which  could  hard- 
ly have  been  expected  from  one  in  the  sad  and  melan- 
clioly  circumstances  under  which  he  wrote  them. 


BOYHOOD  OF  D  ALEMBERT.  205 

He  was  deeply  affected  by  the  death  of  a  sister  who 
had  taken  the  vail  in  the  convent  of  Port  Royal,  and 
Buffered  with  her  sect  from  persecutions  of  the  Jesuits. 
He  himself  died  on  the  morning  of  the  19th  of  August, 
1662,  aged  thirty-nine  years,  and  his  last  words  v/ere 
"  May  God  never  forsake  me." 

"  Thus,"  says  a  French  writer,  "  perished  this  frail 
machine,  which  served  as  a  resting-place,  during  a 
brief  period,  to  one  of  the  subhmest  minds  that  evei 
graced  this  world.  Who  dares  mark  the  limits  of  the 
good  this  man  might  have  worked  if,  blessed  with  a 
better  constitution,  he  had  lived  the  usual  span  of  life, 
and  devoted  his  whole  time  and  talents  to  the  culturj 
of  literature,  science,  and  philosophy]" 


BOYHOOD  OF  D'ALEMBERT. 

This  distmguished  mathematician,  whose  European 
fame  is  stated  by  Lord  Brougham  to  have  been,  dur- 
ing his  life,  greater  than  that  enjoyed  by  any  other 
raan  of  science  in  any  age,  was  born  in  Paris,  on  the 
17th  of  November,  1737.  Immediately  on  his  un- 
welcome entrance  into  the  world,  which  was  ere  long 
to  be  so  proud  of  his  genius,  his  life  was  disgracefully 
imperiled  from  exposure  by  his  mother  to  the  cold  air 
of  a  winter's  night,  near  the  Church  of  St.  Jean  le 
Rond.    From  this  position  he  was  fortunately  rescued 


206  MATHEMATICIANS 

by  the  police,  who,  perceiving  that  the  infant's  lin 
was  in  the  utmost  danger,  deUvered  him  into  the  care 
of  a  poor  but  respectable  glazier's  wife  in  the  neigh 
borhood,  who  nursed  him  with  peculiar  tenderness, 
la  a  few  days  the  father  came  forward  to  acknowledge 
the  child,  and  made  provision  for  his  maintenance. 
The  mother,  who  was  afterward  celebrated  for  her 
wit  and  accomplishments  in  the  fashionable  circles  of 
Paris,  was  in  no  haste  to  follow  the  example.  Indeed 
she  manifested  not  the  slightest  sign  of  desiring  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  her  son,  till  he  had  acquired 
fame  and  distinction.  Then  vanity  prompted  her  to 
seek  that  intimacy  which  the  ordinary  feelings  of  a 
parent  had  never  induced  her  to  desire.  AVhen  that 
time  arrived,  however,  and  she  requested  him,  in  pres- 
ence of  his  affectionate  nurse,  to  come  and  live  with 
her,  he  exclaimed,  pointing  to  the  latter, 

"Ma  mere  I  ah!  la  voila  I  Je  ne  connais  point 
d'autre ;"  and  embraced  the  glazier's  spouse  with 
tears  of  filial  and  grateful  affection. 

At  the  age  of  twelve  D'Alembert  was  sent  to  the 
College  of  the  Quatre  Nations,  the  professors  of  which 
belonged  to  the  Jansenist  party.  Observing  unmist 
takable  signs  of  early  genius  in  the  boy,  they  strove 
to  implant  in  his  young  breast  a  love  of  polemical 
subjects. 

"  In  the  first  year  of  his  studies  in  philosophy,"  saya 
Lord  Brougham,  "  he  had  written  an  able  and  learned 
Commentary  on  St.  Paul's  Epistle  to  the  Pv-omans ; 


BOYHOOD  OF  D'ALEMBERT.  207 

and,  as  he  showed  a  general  capacity  for  science,  the 
worthy  enemies  of  the  Jesuits,  delighted  tc  find  that 
all  profound  learning  was  not  engrossed  by  that  body, 
cherished  a  hope  that  a  new  Pascal  had  been  given  to 
them  for  renewing  their  victories  over  their  learned 
and  subtle  adversaries." 

It  proved  vain,  however;  for  his  "History  of  the 
Destruction  of  the  Jesuits,"  published  long  after,  is 
rather  laudatory  of  the  genius  and  accomplishments 
of  that  body  ;  and  his  literary  productions  are  pro- 
nounced to  be  quite  unequal  in  merit  to  those  on  sci- 
entific subjects.  But  it  was  with  this  view  that 
D'Alembert's  attention  was  directed  to  those  figures 
and  calculations  of  which  he  forthwith  became  much 
enamored,  and  in  regard  to  which  he  subsequently 
distinguished  himself  so  conspicuously  among  his  con- 
temporaries. 

On  leaving  college  he  returned  to  the  humble  dwell- 
ing that  had  sheltered  his  infancy,  considerately  think- 
ing that  the  small  income  he  derived  from  his  father 
would  minister  to  the  comforts  of  those  who  had  guard- 
ed and  watched  over  him  in  childhood.  There,  in  a 
small  apartment  that  served  both  for  study  and  bed- 
room, he  continued  to  reside  for  forty  years,  at  the  end 
of  which  his  health  obliged  him  to  remove  to  a  more 
airy  abode. 

In  this  obscure  retreat  he  applied  himself  with  heait 
and  soul  to  his  favorite  study.  In  prosecuting  it  he 
often,  like  Ferguson  the  astronomer,  made  what  he 


208  MATHEMATICIANS. 

believed  to  be  original  discoveries,  till  awakened  frona 
tlie  pleasing  delusion  by  some  treatise,  which  he  had 
not  previously  had  the  advantage  of  consulting.  Such 
books,  indeed,  as  his  means  permitted  him  to  purchase 
he  made  himself  master  of;  but  the  greater  number 
he  was  obliged  to  read  at  the  public  libraries  to  which 
he  had  access. 

Devoted  as  he  was  to  geometry,  the  very  moderate 
amount  of  his  income  rendered  it  advisable  that  he 
should  study  for  some  profession  likely  to  yield  him  a 
competence,  and  he  accordingly  tried  the  law ;  but 
finding  it  quite  foreign  to  his  tastes,  he  turned  to 
medicine.  In  this  he  was  equally  unsuccessful ;  for 
though,  in  order  that  he  might  not  be  tempted  from 
it,  he  sent  his  mathematical  books  to  a  friend's  house 
till  he  should  have  taken  his  degree,  his  heart,  un- 
traveled,  still  remained  with  his  favorite  study ;  he 
received  back  one  volume  after  another  till  he  had 
re-possessed  himself  of  the  whole  ;  and,  like  the  great 
Galileo,  finding  his  medical  schemes  impracticable, 
he  abandoned  a  hopeless  struggle,  and  allowed  his  in- 
clination to  take  its  natural  course. 

His  investigations  were  fruitful  of  the  most  pleasant 
and  serene  enjoyment  to  himself,  notwithstanding 
that  his  kind  foster-mothor  would  often  say,  "  Oh, 
you  will  be  nothing  better  than  a  philosopher — a 
foolish  man  who  wears  his  life  out  to  be  talked  of 
after  he's  dead." 

But,  luckily,  she  proved   no   prophetess;  for   hia 


BOYHOOD  OF  D'ALEMBERT.  209 

ittdles  ere  long  brought  him  into  that  aotice  which 
might  have  been  anticipated  from  the  enthusiastic 
diligence  with  which  they  had  been  followed.  An 
imjoortant  paper,  presented  to  the  Academy  of  Sciences 
impressed  that  learned  body  so  favorably  with  hia 
capacity  and  talents,  that,  in  1741,  he  became  one 
of  its  members,  at  the  almost  unprecedentedly  early 
age  of  twenty-two. 

Two  years  later,  his  "  Traite  de  Dynamique"  raised 
him  to  the  highest  rank  of  geometricians.  In  1746 
he  produced  his  "  Memoir  on  the  Theory  of  Winds," 
and  in  1 752,  his  "  Essai  sur  la  Resistance des  Fluides. " 
He  was  joint-editor  with  Diderot  of  the  "  French 
Cyclopaidia,"  commenced  in  1751,  to  which  he  con- 
tributed many  of  the  best  articles,  especially  on  math- 
ematical subjects. 

The  controversies  in  which  his  literary  productions 
involved  him  were  so  unsuited  to  his  tastes  and  habits, 
that  he  always  returned  with  renewed  zeal  and  heart- 
felt satisfaction  to  the  cultivation  of  science. 

Having  decHned  a  handsome  invitation  of  the  King 
of  Prussia  to  settle  at  Berlin,  he  was,  in  1772,  chossa 
Secretary  to  the  Academy  of  Sciences. 

He  died  on  the  29th  of  April,  1783. 


CHAPTER  X. 
(Eljemists. 


BOYHOOD  OF  CAVENDISH. 

AbO'JT  the  close  of  last  century  an  incomprehensi- 
ble old  gentleman  had  a  mansion  close  to  the  British 
Museum.  Few  visitors  were  admitted,  but  those 
who  found  their  way  across  the  threshold  reported 
that  books  and  scientific  apparatus  formed  its  chief 
furniture.  He  likewise  possessed  a  large  and  well- 
stocked  library,  collected  in  a  house  in  Soho,  which 
was  thrown  open  to  all  engaged  in  research,  and 
thither  he  himself  would  go,  when  in  want  of  any 
book,  signing  a  receipt  for  the  volumes  he  procured 
with  as  much  regularity  as  if  it  had  been  a  circulating 
library,  and  he  a  reader,  either  little  known  or  littla 
trusted.  His  favorite  residence,  however,  was  a  sub 
urban  villa  at  Clapham,  almost  wholly  occupied  aa 
workshops  and  laboratory.  The  upper  rooms  consti- 
tuted an  astronomical  observatory.  The  building  was 
stuck  over  with  thermometers  and  rain-guages.  On 
tlie  lawn  was  a  wooden  stage,  which  aflbrded  access 


BOYHOOD  OF  CAVENDISH.  21 

10  a  large  tree.  All  these  were  objects  of  mysterious 
interest  and  perplexity  to  the  neighbors,  who  did  not 
scruple  to  pronounce  the  owner  a  wizard.  His  ap- 
pearance and  conduct  were,  in  some  degree,  calcu- 
lated to  give  color  to  their  suspicions.  His  dress 
comprised  the  frilled  shirt-wrist,  high  coat-collar, 
and  cocked  hat,  which  had  been  fashionable  in  the 
days  of  his  grandfather.  His  complexion  was  fair ; 
his  features  were  small,  but  marked.  He  seemed  to 
have  no  human  sympathies,  desired  ever  to  be  alone, 
shrank  from  strangers  as  from  a  pestilence,  and  avoided 
women  with  as  much  caution  as  could  possibly  have 
been  exercised.  Yet  he  was  enormously  rich,  was 
looked  upon  as  the  most  accomplished  British  philo- 
sopher of  his  time  ;  and  his  chemical  researches,  in- 
cluding those  relating  to  the  composition  of  water, 
had  been  prosecuted  with  so  much  skill  and  accuracy 
in  devising  and  executing  experiments,  with  so  much 
caution  and  prudence  in  reasoning  upon  the  conclu- 
sions to  which  they  led,  and  with  so  much  success  in 
the  result,  that  he  Avas  regarded  as  "  the  Newton  of 
chemistry." 

Unlike  the  majority  of  men  of  science,  he  was  of 
noble  birth,  claimed  a  duke  for  grandfather  on  both 
sides,  and  traced  his  descent  through  a  long  line  of 
ancestors,  from  a  lord  chief-justice  in  the  reign  of  Ed- 
v/ard  III.  His  father  was  Lord  Charles  Cavendish, 
a  son  of  the  second  Duke  of  Devonshire,  and  hia 
mother.  Lady  Anne,  daughter  of  Henry  Grey,  Duke 


<fl2  CHEMISTS. 

of  Kent.  The  latter  was  in  bad  health  at  the  time 
of  her  marriage,  and  shortly  after  went  to  Nice,  for 
the  benefit  of  the  waters,  attended  by  her  husband, 
and  there  Henry  Cavendish,  the  future  renowned 
chemist  was  ushered  into  the  world,  on  the  10th  of 
October,  1731.  Soon  after  their  return  to  England, 
Lady  Anne  died,  and  Cavendish  was  thus,  at  the 
earliest  age,  deprived  of  those  maternal  offices  and 
influences,  which  might  have  obviated  the  peculiari- 
ties he  afterward,  and  to  the  last,  so  prominently  ex- 
hibited. There  can  be  no  doubt  that  his  taste  for 
science,  which  was  his  sole  passion,  only  mistress,  and 
absorbing  pursuit  through  life,  was  inherited  from  his 
father,  who  was  not  only  a  philosophical  experiment- 
alist, but  a  good  mathematician,  and  in  the  last  years 
of  his  life  a  senior  member  of  the  Royal  Society, 
Cavendish  was  sent  to  a  school  at  Hackney,  kept  by 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Newcome,  a  sound  classical  scholar  and 
a  rigid  disciplinarian,  along  with  his  young  brother 
Frederick,  a  man  distinguished  alike  by  the  eccentric 
ity  of  his  habits,  and  remarkable  for  his  excellence 
and  benevolence  of  disposition.  In  the  papers  that 
remain  in  existence  relating  to  this  educational  insti- 
tution, which  was  numerously  attended  by  the  chil- 
dren of  the  higher  classes,  consisting  chiefly  of  plays 
acted  by  the  boys,  the  name  of  Cavendish  does  not 
appear ;  and,  considering  his  habits  in  after  years,  it 
is  more  than  probable  that  he  was  already  musing  in 
solitude,  and,  "  with  thoughts  for  armies,"  achieving 


BOYHOOD  OF  CAVENDISH.  213 

tri  umphs  in  those  fields  of  science  which  he  subsequent- 
.'y  preferred  to  the  excitement  of  senates  and  the  fas- 
cination of  gilded  saloons.  He  remained  for  several 
years  at  Hackney,  whence  he  went  directly  to  Cam 
bridge,  and  matriculated  at  St.  Peter's  College,  in 
December,  1749.  Here  he-  resided  regularly  till 
]  753,  when  he  left  without  taking  his  degree.  Among 
his  contemporaries  were  Gray,  the  poet,  and  that 
Duke  of  Grafton  who  occupies  so  unenviable  a  posi 
tion  in  the  letters  of  Junius. 

After  leaving  Cambridge  Cavendish  went  to  Lon 
don,  and  appears  at  this  period  to  have  paid  a  visit 
to  Paris,  in  company  with  his  brother,  with  whom 
he  had  little  intercourse  in  after-life ;  for,  though 
they  were  sincerely  attached  to  each  other,  their 
tastes  and  habits  were  so  utterly  dissimilar  as  to  pre- 
clude the  possibility  of  very  close  intimacy.  The 
following  is  the  only  conversation  recorded  between 
the  brothers,  and  seems  to  confirm  the  statement  of 
Cavendish  having  been  the  coldest  and  most  indifier- 
ent  of  mortals.  On  landing  at  Calais  they  took  up 
their  quarters  at  an  hotel  for  the  night.  In  retiring 
to  bed  they  passed  a  room  in  which,  the  door  being 
open,  they  observed  a  corpse  laid  out  for  burial, 
which  produced  on  the  younger  brother  that  solemn 
feeling  which  prompted  him  next  day  to  allude  to 
the  subject. 

"  Did  you  see  the  corpse  ?"  he  asked,  with  interest. 

"I  did,"  was  the  cold,  brief  reply  of  the  philoso- 


^14  CHEMISTS. 

pher,  who,  most  likely,  was  already  pondering  some 
great  chemical  experiment. 

Cavendish's  keen  attachment  to  seientihc  pursuits 
had  not  escaped  the  notice  and  regret  of  his  relatives, 
who,  being  aware  of  his  unquestionable  talents,  were 
anxious  that  he  should  take  that  part  in  public  life 
v/hich  men  of  his  station  and  influence  then  experi- 
enced little  difficulty  in  doing. 

It  may  reasonably  be  doubted  whether  his  peculiai 
bent  of  mind  would  not  have  disqualified  him,  in  a 
great  measure  from  shining  in  the  political  world ; 
but,  at  all  events,  the  experiment  was  not  to  be 
tried  ;  for,  even  at  the  hazard  of  their  displeasure,  he 
steadily  and  resolutely  refused  to  be  withdrawn  from 
those  congenial  and  beloved  studies  to  which  he  had 
dedicated  himself  for  better  or  for  worse.  This  deci- 
sion, however,  is  understood  to  have  subjected  him 
to  narrow  pecuniary  circumstances  ;  and  it  is  related 
that,  when  he  attended  at  the  Pvoyal  Society,  one  of 
the  very  few  places  of  public  resort  he  ever  ventured 
to  appear  in,  his  father  used  to  give  him  the  five  shil- 
lings to  pay  ibr  the  dinner  there — not  a  fraction 
beyond  the  limited  sum  which  it  cost. 

It  was  not  till  he  had  reached  the  age  of  forty 
that  he  inherited  that  vast  fortune  which  made  a 
French  writer  describe  him  as  the  richest  of  all  the 
learned  of  his  time,  and  the  most  learned  of  all  the 
rich.  It  was  after  this  that  his  most  memorable 
(jhemical  discoveries  were  either  made  or  published. 


BOYHOOD  OF  CAVENDISH  215 

His  researches  scon  rendered  him  a  conspicuous  per- 
Bonag-e  in  the  scientific  circles  of  London ;  he  was  a 
distinguished  Fellow  of  the  Royal  Society,  and  a 
member  of  the  French  Institute  ;  yet  he  was  so  far 
from  coveting  fame,  that  he  used  every  means  to 
avoid  it.  But  in  spite  of  his  eflbrts  he  became  an 
object  of  interest  and  admiration  to  Europe,  even 
while  he  could  not  bear  to  be  pointed  out  to  any 
one  as  a  remarkable  man,  and  when  he  never  went 
into  society,  except  on  the  occasion  of  some  christen- 
ing at  the  houses  of  his  aristocratic  kinsmen.  Then 
his  appearance  was  awkward,  his  manner  nervous, 
his  speech  hesitating,  and  his  voice  sharp  and  shrill ; 
but,  when  he  said  any  thing,  it  showed  genius,  and 
was  always  to  the  purpose.  His  love  of  solitude  was 
io  great,  and  his  aversion  to  commerce  with  his  fel- 
low-men so  inveterate,  that  even  when  the  day  of 
his  dissolution  arrived  he  insisted  upon  being  left 
alone  to  die.  He  departed  this  life  on  the  24th  of 
February,  1810,  and  was  buried  at  All  Souls'  Church, 
Derby,  leaving  the  world  a  rich  legacy  in  the  fruits 
of  his  scientific  genius. 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  HUMPHRY  DAVY. 

Hardly  has  any  one  cultivated  the  science  of 
chemistry  with  more  briUiant  success  than  the  in 
ventor  of  the  safety-lamp,  who,  in  his  earliest  days, 
occupied  his  attention  with  those  pursuits  that  led  to 
his  great  fame,  and  entitled  him  to  the  everlasting 
gratitude  of  posterity. 

Davy  was  born  on  the  17th  of  December,  1788, 
at  Penzance,  in  Cornwall,  where  the  trade  of  a  car- 
ver in  wood  was  carried  on  by  his  father,  many  spec- 
imens of  whose  workmanship  are  still  to  be  seen  in 
the  houses  there.  His  forefathers  had  for  a  long 
period  been  in  possession  of  a  small  property  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  it  does  not  appear  that  this  great 
and  accomplished  man  was  reared  or  educated  in 
any  thing  like  poverty  or  want — so  apt  "  to  cloud 
young  genius  brightening  into  day." 

He  was  placed  at  a  preparatory  school,  and  soon 
gave  indication  of  his  extraordinary  talents,  by  the 
facility  with  which  he  could  give  an  account  of  the 
contents  of  any  book  he  read.  His  most  prominent 
juvenile  trait  is  stated  to  have  been  a  propensity  to 
shut  himself  up  in  his  room,  and  arrange  the  furni- 
ture for  an  audience,  which  he  found  in  his  school- 
fellows, to  whom  he  would  deliver  something  like  a 
lecture.  He  showed,  even  then,  some  taste  for  chem« 
ical  pursuits,  and,  besides,  indulged  in  the  composi- 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  HUMPHRY  DAVY.  2l7 

tion  of  romances,  wrote  verses,  and  acted  in  a  play 
got  up  by  himself;  thus  exhibiting  something  of  that 
turn  for  diversified  acquirements  which  distinguished 
him  in  mature  manhood.  He  was  next  entered  at 
the  grammar-school  of  the  little  town;  and,  on  re- 
moval from  it,  sent  to  finish  his  education  under  the 
auspices  of  a  clergyman  at  Truro,  who  discerned  his 
striking  powers,  and  encouraged  his  taste  for  poetry. 
On  the  occasion  of  his  family  leaving  Penzance  to 
reside  at  Versall,  he  was  left  at  Truro.  The  distance 
between  the  two  places  is  about  two  miles  and  a  half, 
through  a  country  presenting  a  beautiful  specimen  of 
Cornish  scenery.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  making 
the  little  journey  on  the  back  of  a  pony  or  on  foot, 
and,  when  he  was  able  to  handle  a  fishing-rod,  he 
indulged  in  piscatory  amusements,  in  connection  with 
which  he  published  his  "  Salmonia,"  a  treatise  on 
angling,  a  year  before  his  death.  At  other  times  he 
roamed  over  the  adjoining  district,  seeking  for  sport 
with  his  gun,  and,  no  doubt,  also  meditating  on  sub- 
jects connected  with  those  great  discoveries  for  which 
the  world  is  indebted  to  him.  The  district  was, 
doubtless,  well  calculated  to  give  his  mind  the  scien- 
tific direction  which  it  took  at  so  early  an  age. 
"  How  often,"  said  he  to  a  friend,  in  after  years,  as 
ho  gazed  on  a  picture  of  one  of  the  mines  in  his  native 
district — "  How  often  when  a  boy  have  I  wandered 
about  these  rocks  in  search  after  new  minerals ;  and, 
when  tired,  sat  down  upon  these  crags,  and  exercised 


218  CHEMISTS. 

ray  fancy  in  anticipation  of  future   renown."     Noi 
was  it  long  in  corning. 

He  cultivated  a  little  garden  of  his  own  with  great 
care,  and  took  deligh.^  .a  collecting  and  painting  birds 
and  fishes.  Thus  passed  the  time  till  his  sixteenth 
year,  when  he  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  his  father  ; 
but  his  other  parent  survived  to  witness,  with  proud 
satisfaction,  his  day  of  youthful  greatness.  In  the 
course  of  next  year  he  became  the  apprentice  of  a 
Penzance  apothecary,  and  while  in  his  employment 
underwent  an  extraordinary  amount  of  study  in  re- 
gard to  subjects  connected  with  the  medical  profes 
sion,  besides  mathematics,  languages,  history,  and 
science.  He  spent  much  time  experimenting  in  the 
garret  of  his  master's  house,  which,  with  no  small 
danger  to  the  lives  of  the  inhabitants,  he  turned  into 
a  laboratory,  furnishing  it  with  apparatus  from  the 
shop  and  kitchen.  His  first  original  experiment  is 
stated  to  have  been  made  "  in  order  to  ascertain 
whether,  as  land  vegetables  are  the  renovators  of  the 
atmosphere  of  land  animals,  sea  vegetables  might  not 
be  the  preserver  of  the  equilibrium  of  the  atmosphere 
of  the  ocean."  His  instruments  were,  as  may  be 
conceived,  of  the  rudest  description  ;  but  the  contents 
of  a  case  of  surgical  instruments,  presented  to  hirn 
by  the  master  of  a  French  vessel  wrecked  on  the 
coast,  were  eagerly  and  ingeniously  turned  to  account 
in  the  experiments  which  his  keen  genius  prompted 
him  to  make  on  heat,  without  guidance  or 'jistruction 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  HUMPHRY  DAVY.  2ia 

from  any  one.  His  progress,  meantime,  in  medical 
studies  is  said  to  have  been  so  rapid,  that  he  was 
soon  intrusted  with  the  management  of  the  Pneuma- 
tic Institution.  While  he  was  pondering  the  propri- 
ety of  going  to  study  regularly  for  the  profession  in 
Edinburgh,  Mr.  Gregory  Watt,  who  had  come  to 
lodge  at  his  mother's  for  the  benefit  of  his  health, 
being  well  versed  in  science,  directed  his  studies  in 
regard  to  chemistry  in  such  a  manner  as  to  quicken 
his  ardent  diligence ;  and  one  day,  when  leaning  ou 
a  gate,  he  fortunately  made  the  acquaintance  of  Mr, 
Gilbert,  who,  being  struck  with  his  acquirements, 
was  kind  enough  to  show  him  a  quantity  of  chemical 
apparatus,  such  as  he  had  previously  known  only 
through  the  medium  of  books,  or  in  dreams  and  vis- 
ions of  the  night.  Subsequently,  he  introduced  him 
to  Dr.  Beddoes,  through  whose  influence  he  was 
appointed  to  the  superintendence  of  the  Pneumatio 
Institution  at  Bristol.  While  thus  situated,  he  con- 
ducted experiments  fraught  with  the  most  important 
results,  and  published  an  account  of  chemical  and 
philosophical  researches,  which  made  so  great  a  sens- 
ation in  the  scientific  world,  and  raised  his  fame  so 
highly,  that  he  was  soon  after  called  to  the  chemical 
chair  of  the  Royal  Institution.  In  1803  he  was 
elected  a  member  of  the  Pvoyal  Society ;  he  was 
knighted  in  1812,  and  created  a  baronet  in  1820, 
having  three  years  before,  given  the  safety-lamp  to 
the  world.     In  1820  he  became  an  Associate  of  the 


220  CHEMISl  S. 

lloyal  Academy  of  Sciences  at  Paris,  and,  on  the 
death  of  Sir  Joseph  Banks,  was  raised  to  the  presi- 
dency of  the  Royal  Society.  From  the  latter  position 
he  was  obhged,  by  ill  health,  to  retire,  and,  having 
betaken  himself  to  the  Continent,  he  died  at  Geneva, 
on  the  30th  of  May,  1829. 

The  labor  and  assiduity  he  employed  in  cultivat- 
ing the  talent  with  which  Providence  had  blessed 
him,  and  the  industry  with  which  he  applied  himself 
to  the  promotion  of  his  favorite  science,  are  eminently 
worthy  of  respect  and  imitation  ;  and  the  fame  which 
gathers  around  his  name  may  well  incite  the  aspiring 
youth  to  emulate  his  perseverance,  and  follow  in  hia 
illustrious  steps. 


CHAPTER  yr 
Sailors 


BOYHOOD  OF  LORD  ST.  Vif.rfjiir. 

This  distinguished  admiral  -was  early  insjjlfCvit  vvith 
a  strong  and  invincible  love  of  that  service  in  which 
he  was  destined  to  occupy  so  high  and  splendid  a 
position,  and  with  a  determination  that  defied  all 
dangers  and  overcame  all  difficulties  in  the  pursuit 
of  his  objects.  Study  and  self-denial,  courage  and 
perseverance,  were  the  charmed  weapons  with  which 
he  fought  his  way  from  poverty  and  neglect  to  wealth 
and  renown ;  and  they  are  precisely  those  which; 
under  similar  circumstances,  will  always  be  found 
most  satisfactory  and  efTectual  in  producing  like  re- 
sults. Hardly  is  any  career  more  fraught  with  salu- 
tary lessons  and  suggestions  to  the  young  hero  who 
dreams  of  naval  glory  and  its  appropriate  rewards. 

John  Jervis  was  born  at  Meaford,  in  the  parish  of 
Stone,  on  the  20th  of  January,  1735,  of  a  family  that 
had  possessed  considerable  estates  in  StafTordshire,  in 
the  time  of  the  Plantaaenets.     He  received  the  rudi- 


222  SAILOKS 

ments,  and,  indeed,  nearly  the  whole  of  his  educalio'* 
at  a  school  in  Burton-upon-Tient,  which  was  evei 
after  connected  in  his  memory  with  the  irritable 
temper  and  severe  inclination  of  the  master,  which 
were  by  no  means  improved  or  softened  by  a  shrew 
iGh  wile.  Young  Jervis  soon  gave  indications  of 
his  ability  and  industry,  and  was  reckoned  the  bes'-. 
Greek  scholar  in  the  school,  so  that  he  was  selected 
to  the  honorable  post  of  reading  a  passage  from  Homer 
before  Mr.  Slade,  a  great  London  distiller,  who  was 
desirous  of  ascertaining  the  progress  and  proficiency 
of  the  boys.  He  had  been  so  well  taught  to  "  sing 
out,"'  as  it  was  expressively  termed,  that  the  loudness 
of  his  tone  quite  astonished  Slade,  who  remarked, 
much  to  the  lad's  confusion  and  discomfiture — 

"  You  speak  as  if  you  spake  through  a  speaking- 
trumpet  sir." 

This  somewhat  cruel  interruption  efiectually  si- 
lenced the  chosen  performer  of  the  Greek  class,  who 
did  not  soon  forget  the  check  of  the  redoubted  extractei 
of  spirits. 

In  1715,  v/hen  Prince  Charles  carried  the  standard 
of  insurrection  into  tho  iieart  of  the  kingdom,  all  the 
boys  at  the  school  wore  plaid  ribbons  sent  them  from 
home,  to  manifest  their  zeal  and  sympathy  in  his 
cau.se,  with  the  exception  of  Jervis  and  Meux,  after- 
ward the  opulent  brewer,  who  both  adhered  btead 
fastly  to  King  George  and  the  Protestant  succession ; 
though  branded   as  Whigs   by  their  playmates  foi 


BOYHOOD  OF  LORD  ST.  VINCENT .  22d 

doing  £0,  and  frequently  pelted  on  account  of  their 
political  leanings. 

Tiie  elder  Jervis  designed  his  sou  for  the  profession 
of  the  law,  of  which  he  himself  was  a  member  ;  but 
circumstances  ere  long  forced  him  to  forego  his  plan. 
Being  appointed  counsel  to  the  Admiralty,  and  audi- 
tor of  Greenwich  Hospital,  he  removed  thither  from 
Staffordshire,  taking  with  him  his  son,  who  was 
placed  at  Swinden's  academy,  at  Greenwich ;  and 
thus  had  a  new  scene  opened  up  to  him,  which  im- 
mediately produced  a  lasting  impression  on  his  mind- 
and  imagination.  His  a.ssociates,  among  whom  was 
the  afterward  famous  Wolfe,  being  mostly  of  a  naval 
character,  he  conceived  a  strong  fancy  for  the  sea. 
This  was  fed  by  his  father's  coachman,  who  unhesi- 
tatingly declared  that  all  lawyers  were  rogues,  and 
strongly  advocated  a  naval  career.  Perhaps  his 
parents  were  not  of  the  same  opinion.  At  all  events, 
his  entrance  into  the  naval  service  was  the  result  of 
his  own  determination,  and  so  completely  opposed  to 
their  views  and  wishes,  that  in  order  to  accomplish  it, 
he  was  obliged  to  take  the  perilous  step  of  runnin" 
away  from  school.  His  friends  used  their  utmost 
authority,  and  made  their  best  efforts  to  induce  him 
to  return,  but  without  effecting  their  object.  His 
resolution  to  be  a  sailor  was  fixed  and  final ;  and  he 
exhibited  an  energy  and  decision  on  the  subject  which 
were  quite  in  keeping  with  the  subsequent  charactei 
of  the  man.      Seeing  that  his  purpose  was  too  firm  to 


224  SAILORS. 

be  broken,  and  that  all  opposition  must  be  futile,  his 
parents  wisely  set  themselves  to  the  task  of  enabling 
him  to  carry  it  into  execution  under  the  most  favor- 
able circumstances  they  could  command. 

Accordingly,  in  January,  1748,  at  the  request  ol 
Lady  Burleigh,  Commodore  Townsend  consented  to 
receive  the  youth  into  the  "  Gloucester,"  then  fitting 
out  for  the  West  Indies.  It  is  not  stated  Vv'hether 
he  experienced  that  pang  on  parting  with  his  rela- 
tives which  saddened  the  first  days  at  sea  of  his  great 
contemporaries  and  compeei's.  Nelson's  distress  was 
great  ;  and  we  are  told  of  the  noble-hearted  Colling- 
wood,  that  when,  at  the  age  of  eleven,  he  entered  the 
navy,  he  sat  crying  at  the  thought  of  leaving  home, 
till  noticed  by  the  first  lieutenant,  who,  pitying  his 
tender  years  and  evident  emotion,  spoke  to  him  in 
such  terms  of  kind  encouragement,  that  he  took  the 
benevolent  oflicer  to  his  box,  and  in  gratitude  ofiered 
him  a  large  part  of  a  plum-cake  his  mother  had  given 
him  at  parting.  Perhaps  the  ardor  of  Jervis  was 
stronger  than  his  feelings.  In  any  case,  having  had 
the  sum  of  twenty  pounds  to  be  expended  in  equip- 
ment and  pocket-money,  he  sailed  from  Portsmouth 
in  August,  1748. 

He  was  then  little  more  than  thirteen  years  cf 
age;  but,  being  of  an  active,  energetic  turn  of  mind, 
he  at  once  perceived,  on  arrival  in  the  harbor  of  Port 
Royal,  that  to  remain  on  board  the  guard-ship  was 
not  the  true  sphere  for  a  youth  of  active  energies  and 


BOYHOOD  OF  LORD  ST.  VINCENT.  22S 

of  aspiring  vein.  He,  therefore,  always  volunteered 
to  be  sent  into  whatever  ship  was  going  to  sea,  or  by 
which  any  thing  of  importance  was  to  be  done,  in- 
stead of  reclining  lazily  on  board  under  a  tropical 
Bun,  or  dissipating  his  time  on  the  soil  of  Jamaica. 
When  unavoidably  in  port,  he  devoted  himself  assid- 
uously to  study,  and  thus  acquired  an  immense  amount 
of  professional  and  general  knowledge.  He  resisted 
the  allurements  of  pleasure,  and  pursued  his  studies 
with  a  characteristic  firmness,  which  indicated  his 
navaV ardor,  proved  his  mental  courage,  and  against 
which  the  temptations  of  Jamaica  baths  and  "  qual- 
ity balls"  were  equally  ineffectual.  Such  voluntary 
achievements  are  much  rarer  among  youths  in  his 
position  than  is  desirable,  and  his  example  is  well- 
fitted  to  teach  the  aspirant  the  true  path  by  which 
honor  and  distinction  are  reached  and  retained. 

During  the  six  years  he  served  in  the  West  Indies 
Jervis  was,  from  the  refusal  of  his  family  to  make 
any  allowance,  so  straitened  in  pecuniary  matters  as 
to  undergo  much  inconvenience  and  considerable 
poverty — sometimes  what  might  not  unjustly  be  de- 
nominated want.  But  this  proved,  as  it  fortunately 
turned  out,  of  inestimable  importance  in  forming 
the  man.  It  created  a  lofty  and  enduring  spirit  of 
independence,  taught  him  the  necessity  and  benefits 
of  self-reliance,  and  originated  that  confidence  in  hiss 
own  resources  which  contributed  so  much  to  his  great 
success,  to  his  country's  service,  and  to  his  superiority 
P 


2-zb  Si^ILORS. 

among  men.  At  one  time  he  was  compelled,  in  or* 
der  to  raise  money,  to  sell  Lis  bedding  and  sleep  on 
the  bare  deck.  He  usually  made  and  mended,  and 
always  washed,  his  own  clothes ;  and,  not  having 
money  to  spend,  his  alertness  to  volunteer  into  other 
ships  increased.  In  one  of  these  cruisers  he  met  with 
an  old  quarter-master  who  had  been  the  mate  of 
a  merchant-vessel,  and  who  gave  the  meritorious 
midshipman  the  only  instruction  he  ever  had  in  tho 
science  of  navigation. 

In  the  autumn  of  1754  Jervis  returned  to  England 
in  the  "Sphinx;"  and  she  being  in  a  short  period 
paid  off,  he  was  transferred  to  the  "William  and 
Mary"  yacht,  where  he  completed  the  required  term 
of  service  for  the  rank  of  lieutenant.  As  yet  he  had 
seen  no  war-service  ;  but  the  time  was  fast  approach- 
ing for  him  to  mingle  in  its  bloody  and  exciting 
scenes. 

Meanwhile  he  passed  his  examination  for  a  lieu- 
tenancy with  great  credit,  and  soon  after  received  his 
commission  and  orders  to  betake  himself  to  Chatham 
and  assist  in  fitting  out  the  "  Prince,"  intended  as 
Lord  Anson's  flag.  She  was  commanded  by  Captain 
Saunders,  who,  in  a  very  short  time,  saw  reason  to 
entertain  a  high  opinion  of  Jervis,  and  to  bestow 
upon  him  the  highest  approbation.  In  February, 
1755,  he  was  appointed  junior-lieutenant  of  the 
"  Royal  George,"  and  next  month  transferred  to  the 
"  Nottingham,"  one  of  the  fleet  with  which  Admiral 


BOYHOOD  OF  LORD  ST.  VINCENT.  221 

Boscawea  was  then  dispatched  from  Portsmouth 
against  the  French  force  collected  at  the  Isle  ol 
Rhee. 

When  Sir  Edward  Hawke  was  sent  out  to  repaii 
our  disasters  in  the  Mediterranean,  it  was  thought  so 
extremely  desirable  that  Captain  Saunder?  should 
be  second  in  command,  that  a  promotion  was  effected 
for  that  purpose ;  and  so  strongly  had  that  officer, 
described  by  Lord  Orford  as  "  the  pattern  of  most 
steady  bravery,  combined  with  most  unaffected  mod- 
esty," been  impressed  with  the  high  qualities  of  Jer 
vis,  that  he,  without  being  solicited,  selected  him  as 
one  of  his  followers. 

In  March,  1756,  when  the  "  Dorchester"  was  at- 
tached to  the  Mediterranean  fleet.  Lieutenant  Jervis 
was  appointed  to  her,  but  soon  after  removed  to  the 
"Prince,"  in  which  Admiral  Saunders'  flag  was  then 
flying.  The  illness  of  an  officer  caused  Jervis  to  be 
placed  in  command  of  the  "Experiment,"  and  gave 
him  an  opportunity  of  exhibiting  his  skill  and  courage 
against  the  "  Xebeque,"  a  French  privateer,  off'  the 
coast  of  Catalonia. 

Sir  Charles  Saunders  being  recalled  from  the  Med- 
iterranean to  be  intrusted  with  the  command  of  the 
naval  force  that  M'as  sent  to  Quebec  along  with  Sir 
James  Wolfe,  Jervis  was  chosen  by  the  admiral  to  be 
first  lieutenant  of  the  "  Prince,"  Avhich  was  again  to 
bear  his  flag.  He  was  subsequently  promoted  to 
the  command  of  the  "Porcupine"  sloop,  in  Avhich  he 


228  SAILORS. 

showed  his  usual  sagacious  vigilance,  and  immediately 
after  the  capt'u-e  of  Quebec  he  was  dispatched  to  En- 
gland. In  1761  he  was  prompted  to  the  rank  of  post- 
captaiu  in  the  "  Gosport ;"  but  she  being  paid  ofl:"  at 
the  peace  of  17C2,  he  did  not  serve  again  for  six  years. 

At  the  end  of  that  time  he  was  appointed  to  the 
"Alarm"  frigate,  when  he  courageously  exacted  ro- 
dress  from  the  Genoese  for  an  insult  offered  to  the 
British  flag,  and  liberated  two  Turkish  slaves  who 
had  taken  refuge  under  its  protecting  folds.  He  was 
soon  after  shipwrecked  in  the  Bay  of  Marseilles. 

Having  been  appointed  to  the  "  Foudroyant,"  he 
was  in  the  drawn  battle  with  the  French  off'  Ushant, 
and  v/as  examined  as  a  witness  before  the  court-mar- 
tial held  on  Admiral  Keppel  at  Portsmouth.  In  1783 
he  was  appointed  commodore  of  an  expedition  destined 
against  the  Spanish  West  Indies ;  but,  on  the  subsi- 
dence of  the  American  War  into  what  was  termed 
the  "armed  neutrality,"  the  project  was  abandoned, 
and  in  the  same  year  he  was  worthily  elected  member 
of  Parliament  for  North  Yarmouth.  He  took  an 
earnest  and  active  part  in  politics,  and  considerably 
increased  his  reputation  by  the  readiness  and  facility 
with  which  he  engaged  ia  all  discussions  relating  to 
his  profession  ;  and  in  1787  was  promoted  to  the 
rank  of  Admiral  of  the  Blue. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  French  Bevolution- 
ary  war,  he  was  one  of  the  first  officers  called  into 
active  service,  and  he  was  named  commander-in-cliiel 


BOYHOOD  OF  LORD  ST.  VINCENT.  229 

of  the  squacJron  sent  against  the  French  West  India 
islands.  On  returning  to  England  he  was  invested 
with  the  command  of  the  Mediterranean  fleet ;  and, 
after  defeating  the  Spanish  in  a  battle  off  Cape  St. 
Vincent,  he  was  created  an  earl,  deriving  his  titlo 
from  the  scene  of  victory.  In  1800  he  took  the  com- 
mand of  the  Channel  fleet,  and  the  same  year  accepted 
office  as  First  Lord  of  the  Admiralty  in  Mr.  Adding- 
ton's  administration.  In  1806  he  resumed  the  com- 
mand of  the  Channel,  but  finally  resigned  it  next 
year.  He  received  from  George  IV.  a  commission  as 
an  admiral  of  the  fleet ;  and  his  last  appearance  in 
public  was  on  board  the  royal  yacht,  on  the  occasion 
of  the  king's  embarkation  for  Scotland. 

This  brave  old  English  admiral  expired  at  his  seat 
of  Rochetts,  on  the  15th  of  March,  1823,  in  the  nine- 
tieth year  of  his  age  ;  having  by  self  denial,  persever- 
ance, valor,  and  resolution,  enjoyed  some  of  the  high- 
est dignities  of  the  state,  and  entitled  himself  to  the 
lasting  ^'eneration  of  its  free  subjects. 


BOYHOOD  OF  NELSON, 

To  add  to  the  greatness  and  glory  of  his  country 
was  ever  the  highest  ohject  of  this  most  renowned 
hero's  ambition ;  and  from  his  earhest  youth  he  ex- 
hibited much  of  that  dauntless  spirit  which  afterward 
rendered  him  the  pride  of  England  and  the  terror  of 
her  foes.  It  was  by  no  favoi:  or  patronage  that  he 
rose  to  his  subsequent  height  of  grandeur,  but  by  doing 
his  duty  to  his  king  and  country  with  energy,  determ- 
ination, and  courage ;  and  it  is  because  he  acted  in 
such  a  manner,  that  the  hearts  of  Englishmen  still 
swell  with  pride  and  gratitude  at  the  recollection  of 
his  patriotic  career  and  his  glorious  death. 

He  was  born  on  the  29th  of  September,  1758,  at 
Burnham  Thorpe,  in  Norfolk,  of  which  parish  his 
father  was  rector.  His  mother,  whose  maiden  name 
was  Suckling,  was  grand-daughter  of  an  elder  sistci 
of  the  great  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  and  the  infant,  des- 
tined for  such  high  renown,  was  namef*  after  his  god- 
father, the  first  Lord  Walpole. 

How  natural  courage  and  determination  were  to 
his  heart,  is  proved  by  an  anecdote  related  of  his  very 
earliest  boyhood.  When  almost  a  child,  he  one  day 
strayed  from  home,  in  company  with  a  cow-boy,  to 
seek  birds'  nests ;  and,  not  making  his  appearance  at 
the  dinner-hour,  the  horrible  suspicion  occurred  to  the 
family  that  he  had  been  carried  oO'by  gipsies.     Their 


BOYHOOD  OF  NELSON.  231 

anxiety  and  alarm  led  to  a  most  vigilant  search  being 
instituted,  whereupon  the  future  hero  of  the  Nile  waa 
discovered  sitting,  with  the  utmost  composure,  by  the 
side  of  a  brook,  which  he  found  himself  unable  to  cross. 

"  I  Avonder,  child,"  said  his  grandmother,  when  she 
found  him  restored  in  safety  to  the  domestic  circle, 
"  that  hunger  and  fear  did  not  drive  you  home.' 

"  Fear  I"  exclaimed  the  dauntless  boy,  "  I  never 
saw  fear— what  is  it  ?" 

This  was,  perhaps,  the  first  flash  of  the  high  spirit 
and  courageous  genius  afterward  so  signally  display- 
ed on  many  a  bloody  and  memorable  day. 

When  he  was  nine  years  old  his  mother  died,  and 
his  uncle,  Captain  Suckling,  of  the  Royal  Navy, 
coming  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  bereaved  family,  prom- 
ised to  take  care  of  one  of  the  boys,  though  with 
no  intention  of  its  being  Horatio,  who  was  of  a  deli- 
cate constitution,  and  therefore  not  thought  likely  to 
distinguish  himself  on  board  a  man-of-war.  Perhaps 
the  young  hero  himself  had  a  very  difierent  opinion ; 
and  one  can  imagine  him  at  once  concluding  that  he 
was  to  be  the  man,  naming  his  miniature  ship  after 
that  in  which  his  uncle  served,  sailing  it  in  some  pond 
by  his  father's  rectory,  and  leeding  his  mind  with 
visions  of  such  glorious  sea-fights  as  he  had  heard 
and  read  of,  in  most  of  which  he  would  no  doubt 
figure  as  the  conquering  hero. 

He  was  sent,  with  his  brother  William,  to  bt 
educated  at  North  Walshara,  in  his  native  county^ 


fcJ2  SAILORS. 

where,  on  one  occasion,  he  showed  the  fearlessness 
and  ambition  of  his  nature  in  a  way  that  won  him 
the  admiration  of  his  school-fellows.  In  the  school- 
master's garden  some  pears,  which  were  looked  upon 
as  lawful  booty,  had  pleased  the  eye  and  quickened 
the  appetite  of  the  boys,  but  grew  in  such  a  posi- 
tion that  the  boldest  of  them  feared  to  venture  for  the 
tempting  and  tantalizing  prize.  Nelson,  however, 
was  not  to  be  daunted ;  so,  having  himself  let  down 
at  night  by  some  sheets  from  the  bedroom  window, 
he  was  drawn  up  again  with  the  longed-for  fruit, 
and  distributed  it  among  his  school-fellows,  without 
keeping  any  to  himself,  remarking,  as  he  pouted  his 
proud  lip,  that  "  he  only  took  it  because  every  other 
boy  was  afraid." 

An  instance  of  his  high  sense  of  honor  is  narrated. 
Being  at  home  for  the  Christmas  holidays,  he  and 
his  brother  set  off  on  horseback  to  return  to  school, 
but  came  back  on  account  of  there  having  been  a 
fall  of  snow,  which  the  elder  brother  said  was  too  deep 
to  admit  of  their  venturing  on  the  journey.  Their 
father,  who  doubtless  considered  the  circumstances 
suspicious,  was  inclined  to  think  otherwise,  and  re- 
quested them  to  make  another  attempt,  telling  them 
to  return  home  if  they  found  the  road  really  danger- 
ous ;  but  he  added,  "  Remember,  boys,  I  leave  it  to 
your  honor." 

The  snow  was  quite  deep  enough  to  have  afforded 
a  decent  excuse,  and  master  William,  who  did  not 


BOYHOOD  OF  NELSON.  233 

particularly  rclisii  the  object  of  their  journey,  pro* 
posed  and  insisted  that  they  should  go  back  a  second 
tinae  ;  but  Horatio  was  not  to  be  prevailed  on.  "  We 
must  go  on,"  he  said;  "remember,  brother,  it  M'as 
left  to  our  honor,"  and  proceeding,  they  reached  their 
destination  in  safety. 

At  twelve  years  of  age  he  was  again  at  Burnharn 
Thorpe,  spending  the  holidays  along  with  his  brother. 
Their  father  was  then  at  Bath  for  the  benefit  of  his 
health.  Reading,  in  a  local  newspaper,  that  their 
uncle  had  been  appointed  to  the  "  Raisonable,"  of 
sixty- four  guns,  Horatio  requested  William  to  wiite 
to  his  father,  and  say  that  he  wished  so  much  to  go 
to  sea  with  his  uncle  ;  and  William  wrote  according 
to  his  request. 

Mr.  Nelson,  who  seems  to  have  duly  appreciated 
the  determined  and  energetic  character  of  the  boy, 
had  always  said  that,  whatever  his  son's  walk  of  life, 
he  would  do  his  utmost  to  get  to  the  top  of  the  tree. 
Still  he  could  not  but  think  that  it  was  simply  a 
boyish  aspiration  that  prompted  this  choice  of  a  pro- 
fession, and  Captain  Suckling  considered  him  most 
unfit  to  "rough  it  out  at  sea."  But  who  can  say 
that  the  high-spirited  and  contemplative  hero  was 
not  already  indulging  in  those  great  hopes  and  high 
aspirings  which  made  him,  when  a  captain,  exclaim 
that  he  would  one  day  have  a  "  Gazette"  to  himself? 
At  all  events  it  was  resolved  that  he  should  try  his 
fortune  at  sea  ,  and  on  a  cold,  dark  morning  in  spring 


234  SAILORS. 

his  father's  servant  arrived  to  take  him  from  school, 
that  he  might  join  the  ship,  which  was  lying  in  the 
Medway.  The  parting  from  his  brother  and  school- 
fellows was  sad  and  trying,  as  such  scenes  usually 
are ;  for  early  friendships  are  true  and  sincere,  un 
like  too  many  of  those  formed  when  the  heart  is 
hardened  by  the  vanity,  coldness,  and  deceit  of  the 
world,  and  "the  milk  of  human  kindness"  dried  up 
in  those  struggles  which  manhood  so  frequently  brings 
with  it. 

Nelson's  father  accompanied  him  to  London,  and 
put  him  into  the  Chatham  stage-coach.  On  arrival 
he  was  set  down  with  the  other  passengers,  and,  being 
in  a  strange  place,  was  unable  to  find  the  ship.  An 
officer,  seeing  him  wandering  about,  and  remarking 
his  forlorn  appearance,  questioned  him,  and,  being 
acquainted  with  his  uncle,  took  him  home,  refreshed 
him,  and  directed  him  to  the  "  Raisonable."  When 
Nelson  got  on  board  Captain  Suckling  was  not  there, 
nor  had  his  coming  been  intimated  to  any  one  ;  so 
with  a  heavy  heart  he  paced  the  deck  all  day  un 
noticed,  and  it  was  not  till  the  next  that  his  presence 
attracted  attention.  Such  was  the  reception  met 
with  by  the  motherless  boy  of  tender  age,  sensitive 
heart  and  feeble  frame,  on  that  element  on  which  he 
was  destined  to  play  so  conspicuous  a  part ;  whose 
sons  he  afterward  inspired  with  a  zeal  hardly  ever 
before  equaled,  and  to  whose  sovereignty  he  was  ero 
long  gloriously  to  vindicate  the  claims  of  his  country. 


BOYHOOD  OF  NELSON.  iii 

Ho  never  forgot  the  wretchedness  which  he  felt  dur- 
ing his  first  few  days  in  the  service  ;  and  with  true 
nobility  of  soul  always  strove  to  make  matters  more 
pleasant  to  those  in  a  similar  position. 

The  "  Raisonable"  ha'.'ing  been  commissioned,  on 
account  of  the  dispute  with  Spain  about  the  Falk- 
land Islands,  was  paid  oil'  when  it  was  settled  ;  and 
Nelson  disdaining  to  be  idle,  went  to  the  West  Indies 
in  a  merchant-ship  commanded  by  John  Rathbone, 
an  excellent  seaman,  who  had  formerly  served  under 
Captain  Suckling  as  mate.  Rathbone  having,  from 
gome  cause,  conceived  disgust  with  the  navy,  impress- 
ed Nelson  with  feelings  of  a  like  nature  ;  and  though 
the  latter  returned  from  his  voyage  a  practical  sea- 
man, it  was  with  strong  dislike  to  the  king's  service. 
Captain  Suckling  received  him  on  board  the  "  Tri- 
umph," and  took  every  means  to  eradicate  his  preju 
dice.  The  vessel  was  stationed  in  the  Thames  as  a 
guard-ship ;  and  Nelson  was  promised  a  place  in  the 
cutter  attached  to  the  commanding  officer's  ship  at 
Chatham,  if  he  attended  well  to  his  navigation. 
Thus  he  acquired  a  confidence  among  rocks  and 
sands,  of  which  he  often  after  felt  the  value.  But 
such  a  life  as  that  on  board  the  "  Triumph"  was  not 
Eufficiently  active  or  exciting  for  a  youth  born  to  aspire 
and  to  excel ;  so,  hearing  that  there  were  two  ships  fit- 
ting out  for  a  voyage  of  discovery  toward  the  North 
Pole,  his  love  of  enterprise  prompted  him  to  request  thai 
he  miirht  be  received  as  a  sharer  of  the  danjrer.    There 


23C  SAILORS 

was  some  difficulty  in  his  wish  being  granted  ;  but  at 
length,  by  the  influence  of  his  uncle,  he  was  taken  as 
coxswain  under  Captain  Lutwidge,  second  in  com 
mand  ;  and  the  expedition  sailed  from  the  Norc  on 
the  4th  of  June,    1773.     The  vessels  encountered 
fearful  perils,  in   all  of  which  Nelson  displayed  his 
characteristic  courage  and  resolution      On  making 
the  land  off  Spitzbergen  the  ice  became  most  alarm 
nig  ;  and  the  crew  being  sent  to  find  a  passage  into 
the  open  water,  Nelson  was  intrusted  with  the  com- 
mand of  one  of  the  boats,  with  which  he  had  the 
satisfaction  of  rescuing  another,  with  its  crew,  from 
the  attack  of  a  number  of  enraged  walruses.     One 
night  he  and  a  companion  secretly  left  the  ship ;  and 
early  next  morning  he  was  observed  in  almost  hand- 
to-hand  conflict  with  a  huge  bear.     He  was  on  the 
point  of  striking  the  animal  with  the  butt-end  of  his 
musket,  when  a  gun,  fired  from  the  ship,  frightened 
it  away.     On  being  severely  reprimanded,  and  asked 
by  the  captain  how  he  could  venture  upon  so  hazard 
ous  an  encounter,  he  answered,  "I  wished  to  kill  the 
bear,  that  I  might  take  its  skin  home  to  my  father." 
On  returning,  the  ships  were  paid  off,  and  Nelson 
placed  by  his  uncle  on  board  the  "  Seahorse,"  bound 
for  the  East.     During  the  voyage  his  good  conduct 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  master,  on  whose  rec- 
ommendation the  captain  rated  him  as  a  midshipman. 
By  this  time  he  had  gained  considerable  strength  ;  but, 
after  eighteen  months  under  an  Indian  sun,  his  health 


BOYHOOD  OF  NELSON.  237 

completely  gave  way ;  he  was  obliged  to  be  brought 
home  ;  and,  being  intrusted  to  Captain  Pigot  of  th" 
"  Dolphin,"  he  set  sail  for  the  land  of  his  birth.  His 
spirits  had  sunk  vv'ith  his  strcnglh,  and  an  enfeebled 
frame  and  depressed  spirits  cast  a  shade  over  his  soul. 
The  discouraging  thought  that  he  should  never  rise 
in  his  profession  was  perpetually  sweeping  his  mind 
and  terrifying  his  imagination.  But  the  darkest  hour 
is  ever  before  daybreak  ;  the  most  severe  mental  de- 
pression is  often  succeeded  by  renewed  hope  ;  and  it 
was  after  Nelson's  gloomiest  reverie,  in  which  he 
pondered  his  want  of  influence,  and  the  impossibility 
of  reaching  any  point  worth  striving  for  without  it, 
that  a  sudden  glow  of  patriotism  illumined  his  soul, 
and  he  exclaimed,  "  I  will  be  a  hero  I  my  king  and 
country  shall  be  my  patrons  I"  From  this  hour  he 
was  no  longer  a  boy.  It  was  fresh  in  his  memory 
to  the  last,  and  he  always  referred  to  it  with  pleasure 
and  satisfaction.  In  it,  his  great  soul  swelled  beyond 
and  broke  the  chains  that  had  encumbered  its  free 
action  and  checked  its  mighty  impulses.  By  the 
kind  care  and  attention  of  Captain  Pigot  he  was 
landed  on  his  native  soil  in  comparative  health,  and 
found  that  in  his  absence  his  uncle  had  been  made 
comptroller  of  the  navy. 

Nelson  was  appointed  acting-lieutenant  in  the 
"Worcester,"  then  going  to  Gibraltar;  and  on  the 
8th  of  April,  1777,  passed  his  examination  for  a  lieu- 
tenancy,  and  next  day  received    his  commission   as 


238  SAILORS, 

second  lieutenant  of  the  "  Lowestofle,"  lltting  out  foi 
Jamaica. 

Such  was  the  early  career  of  this  illustrious  man, 
whose  name  was  in  a  few  years  inseparably  blended 
with  his  country's  greatness  and  fame. 

"  By  this  time  to-morrow  I  shall  have  gained  a 
peerage  or  Westminster  ^bbey,"  he  said  to  his  offi- 
cers before  the  battle  of  the  Nile.  He  was  created 
a  baron,  and  rewarded  with  a  pension  of  £2000  ;  and 
when  an  opinion  was  expressed  in  the  House  of  Com 
mons  that  the  rank  should  have  been  higher,  Mr 
Pitt  answered,  "  That  Admiral  Nelson's  fame  would 
be  coeval  with  the  British  name ;  and  it  would  be 
remembei'ed  he  had  gained  the  greatest  naval  victory 
on  record,  when  no  man  would  think  of  asking  whethei 
ne  had  been  created  a  baron  or  an  earl." 

After  the  battle  of  Copenhagen,  in  which  he  took 
and  destroyed  the  Danish  fleet,  he  -was  raLsed  in  the 
peerage  to  the  ranlc  of  viscount.  Four  years  after 
came  his  great,  his  last,  and  crowning  victory,  at  Tra- 
falgar. Mortally  wounded,  he  lived  to  know  that  the 
triumph  was  complete.  The  last  guns  fired  at  the  fly- 
ing enemy  were  heard  just  before  he  expired,  and  his 
words  were,  "Thank  God,  1  have  done  my  duly  I" 

The  patriotic  devotion  he  manifested,  and  the  heroic 
ardor  he  displayed,  have  had  their  reward  in  the  en- 
thusiasm which  his  splendid  name  gathers  arouad  it, 
and  the  veneration  with  which  it  is,  and  will  long  be 
regarded  by  all  ranks  and  degrees  of  his  countrymen 


CHAPTER  XII 
Soibiers. 


BOYHOOD  OF  THE  DUKE  OF  MARLBOROUGH. 

If  military  glory  is,  as  some  would  have  us  be- 
lieve, a  mere  empty  sound,  it  is  certainly  a  very 
potent  one  ;  for  it  enters  into  the  hearts  of  men, 
stirs  their  blood,  and  evokes  their  energies.  The 
names  of  those  who  have  fairly  won  it  by  approved 
valor  and  splendid  victories  live  long  in  a  nation's 
heart,  and  exercise  an  influence  of  no  mean  or  limited 
kind. 

The  light  of  heroism  has  emblazoned  no  name  in 
the  page  of  history  with  more  dazzling  lustre  than 
that  of  the  illustrious  Churchill.  In  the  eye  of  his 
own  generation  he  appeared  so  supreme,  that  the  great- 
est of  his  contemporaries  forgot  his  faults,  which  assur- 
edly are  not  overlooked  at  the  present  day.  However, 
the  fame  of  the  fair,  bold,  calm,  tranquil  hero,  who 
rode  coolly  through  the  clouds  of  smoke  at  Blenheim 
and  Ramilies,  is  fortunately  built  on  too  sure  and 
solid  a  foundation  to  be  seriously  shaken  by  any  at- 


•^10  SOLDIERS. 

tacks,  however  ingenious  or  powerful ;  and  at  a  period 
when,  notwithstanding  the  humane,  but  rather  an- 
achronistic elForts  of  peace  societies,  it  is  far  from  cer- 
tain that  the  youth  of  England  will  not  soon  be  call- 
ed upon  to  defend  their  free  and  sacred  soil  from  the 
tread  of  armed  foemen  and  ruthless  invaders,  a  sketch 
of  the  earlier  years  of  one  who  contributed  so  largely 
to  the  glory,  grandeur,  and  supremacy  of  the  empire 
can  not  be  out  of  place. 

John  Churchill  inherited  little  more  than  the  Nor- 
man name  of  a  long  line  of  knightly  ancestors,  whose 
progenitor  had  come  to  England  with  the  Conqueror. 
His  father.  Sir  Winston  Churchill,  had  adhered  to 
the  cause  of  Charles  I.  with  much  fidelity,  and  sus- 
tained such  losses  in  consequence,  that  he  was  greatly 
reduced  in  circumstances.  He  married  a  daughter 
of  j^ir  John  Drake,  said  to  have  been  connected  with 
the  famous  admiral  of  that  name,  who,  in  the  rei"-a 
of  Elizabeth,  showed  the  way  to  the  treasure-house 
of  the  Indies,  circumnavigated  the  globe,  and  con- 
quered the  Armada.  This  lady  was,  on  account  of 
inauspicious  fortune,  obliged  to  retire  and  live  for 
years  at  Ashe,  her  father's  seat  in  Devonshire  where 
the  hero  of  Blenheim  was  born,  about  noon,  on  the 
21th  of  June,  1G50,  and  baptized  two  days  after  by 
the  rector  of  Musbury,  the  parish  in  which  his  grand- 
father's manor-place  was  situated. 

Having  thus  found  his  way  into  the  world  in  which 
Ivy  -was  to  pel  form   such   mighty  and  imperishable 


BOYHOOD  OF  THE  DUKE  OF  MARLBOROUGH.  241 

achievements,  Churchill  soon  began  to  exhibit  strong 
signs  of  the  courage,  energy,  and  determination,  which 
led  him  on  to  fame  and  fortune.  The  renown  of  hid 
maternal  relative  and  countryman,  which  was  then 
fresh  and  familiar  to  every  one's  imagination,  and  ring 
ing  in  every  one's  ears,  in  conjunction  with  memor 
able  deeds,  may  have  exercised  no  slight  influence  iij 
fostering  his  warlike  aspirations  ;  and  in  the  library 
of  the  old  hall  he  discovered  an  antique  book  on  mil- 
itary subjects,  over  which  he  pored  with  nmch  inter- 
est, and  with  an  ardent  longing  to  pursue  a  martial 
career.  His  education  was  conducted  by  a  clergyman, 
probably  the  family  chaplain,  under  the  immediate 
inspection  of  his  father,  who,  having  particularly  dis- 
tinguished himself  at  Oxford  by  his  sedateness  and 
studious  application,  and  in  after  years  by  writing  a 
work  entitled  "Divi  Britannici,"  was,  from  his  attain- 
ments, not  unqualified  to  minister  to  the  instruction 
of  that  son  who  was  to  make  the  name  of  Churchill 
immortal.  It  can  not,  however,  be  said  that  the 
young  hero  profited  to  any  very  marvelous  extent; 
but,  as  time  passed  on,  he  became  a  tall,  handsome 
and  noble-looking  boy ;  and  being  carried  by  his  father 
to  London,  was  placed  for  a  short  while  at  St.  Paul's 
School,  where  the  plates  in  a  work  by  Vegetius  on 
the  Art  of  War,  attracted  his  notice  and  admiration. 
The  old  cavalier-knight,  hovi'ever,  lost  no  time  in  tak- 
ing him  to  court,  and  had  him  appointed  a  page  of 
honor  to  the  Duke  of  York,  whose  favor  he  verv  sooi.i 

Q 


842  SOLDIERS. 

won.  lie  immediately  manifested  his  strong  and 
eajjer  taptc  for  martial  afiairs  by  his  assiduous  attend- 
ance on  that  Prince  when  he  went  to  review  the 
troops  ;  and  on  such  occasions  was  wont  to  watch 
and  admire  the  regularity  of  their  discipline  with  an 
enthusiasm  which  did  not  escape  observation.  Per- 
ceiving the  vehement  inclination  of  his  page  for  mili- 
tary  spectacles,  his  master  one  day  asked  him  what 
he  should  do  for  him  as  the  first  step  to  fortune,  where- 
upon Churchill,  with  real  earnestness,  begged  that 
lie  might  be  honored  with  a  pair  of  colors  in  the 
Guards.  His  Pwoyal  Highness  was  pleased  to  find 
that  he  had  not  mistaken  the  bent  of  the  aspiring 
page's  mind  ;  and,  anxious  at  once  to  gratify  his  in 
clination  and  encourage  his  martial  disposition,  pro- 
cured him  an  ensign's  commission  in  the  Royal  Regi- 
ment of  Foot  Guards. 

Having  thus,  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  gained  his  first 
and  darliug  object,  Churchill  learned  the  rudiments 
of  the  military  art,  and  laid  the  foundation  of  that 
knowledge  on  which  he  was  to  rear  so  mighty  and 
towering  a  reputation.  But  his  ambitious  soul  was 
by  no  means  satisfied  with  the  privilege  of  merely 
being  a  soldier ;  he  seized  the  first  opportunity  of  see- 
ing active  service,  and  embarked  for  Tangier.  Dur- 
ing the  time  he  was  quartered  in  that  garrison  he 
was  in  frequent  skirmishes  with  the  Moors,  and  be- 
came inured  to  the  use  of  arms.  He  staid  there  for 
about  a  year,  no  doubt  displaying  that  cool  courage 


BOYHOOD  OF  THE  DUKE  OF  MARLBOROUGH.  243 

and  intrepidity,  which  afterward  had  so  important  an 
effect  on  the  destinies  of  Europe. 

In  a  few  years  he  was  made  a  captain  in  his  own 
regiment,  and  went  to  France  with  the  troops  sent 
by  King  Charles  to  aid  Louis  XIV.  against  the 
Dutch.  Of  this  expedition  the  leader  was  the  unfor- 
tunate Duke  of  Monmouth,  whose  last  and  conclusive 
defeat  at  Sedgemoor,  thirteen  years  later,  Churchill, 
by  his  vigilance  and  generalship,  was  mainly  instru 
mental  in  accomplishing. 

The  French  army  was  commanded  by  the  king  m 
person,  and,  under  him,  by  the  Prince  of  Conde  and 
the  Marshal  de  Turenne,  two  of  the  greatest  generals 
of  any  age ;  and  Churchill  had,  therefore,  no  ordinary 
opportunity  of  acquiring  skill  and  experience.  The 
fruits  of  it  are  indelibly  written  in  those  splendid  vic- 
tories of  the  British  army  that  are  indissolubly  associ- 
ated with  his  glorious  name,  and  proudly  remembered 
by  his  countrymen  to  this  day.  He  exhibited  signal 
valor  at  the  capture  of  several  places,  especially  at 
Nimeguen,  and  Avas  particularly  noticed  by  Turenne, 
who  distinguished  him  by  the  title  of  "  the  handsome 
Englishman,"  by  which  he  was  known  throughout 
the  whole  army.  Churchill  showed  much  anxiety, 
as  he  well  might,  to  merit  the  attention  he  received 
from  so  great  a  general,  and  not  only  did  his  duty 
bravely  at  the  head  of  his  own  company,  but  was 
always,  when  it  was  not  in  action,  present  as  a  vol- 
unteer in  every  enterprise  of  difficulty  and  danger 


Z44  SOLDIERS 

One  extraordinary  instance  of  his  gallant  bravery 
is  recorded.  A  French  officer,  being  instructed  to 
defend  a  pass,  was  so  disheartened  at  the  approach 
of  a  detachment  of  the  enemy  sent  to  attack  it,  that 
he  immediately  quitted  his  post.  Advice  being 
brought  of  this  to  Turenne,  he  turned  to  a  general 
who  stood  near,  and  ollered  to  lay  a  wager  "  that 
his  handsome  Englishman  would  retake  the  position 
with  half  the  number  of  men  with  which  the  other 
had  lost  it."  His  opinion  proved  correct ;  Churchill 
boldly  regained  the  post,  won  the  marshal  his  wager, 
and  was  deservedly  rewarded  with  the  applause  of 
the  whole  army. 

Next  year  his  efforts  at  the  siege  of  Maestricht, 
where  he  saved  the  life  of  the  Duke  of  Monmouth, 
were  so  heroic,  and  the  result  of  them  so  successful, 
that  the  French  monarch  made  a  public  acknowl- 
edgment of  his  services  at  the  head  of  the  gallant 
army,  and  reported  of  him  so  favorably  to  the  king 
of  England,  that  on  his  return  he  was  advanced  to 
several  places  of  trust  and  dignity.  In  1681  he  was 
made  colonel  of  the  only  English  regiment  of  dragoons 
then  in  existence,  and  married  the  fair  and  ambitious 
Sarah  Jennings,  who  exercised  so  immense  an  in- 
fluence over  Queen  Anne.  In  1682  he  was  created 
a  peer  of  Scotland,  and  an  English  peer  three  years 
later,  when  he  took  his  seat  in  the  House  of  Lords. 
]n  1G89  he  was  advanced  to  an  earldom,  two  daya 
bclbre  the  coronation  of  William  and  Mary  ;    and, 


BOTHOOD  OF  THE  DUKE  OF  MARLBOROUGH.  245 

when  war  was  declared  against  France,  he  com- 
manded their  majesties'  forces  in  the  Netherlands, 
and  afterward  in  Ireland.  On  the  accession  of 
Queen  Anne  he  was  proclaimed  Captain-General  of 
the  Forces,  and,  as  such,  in  the  war  against  France 
and  Spain,  signally  retrieved  the  ancient  honor  and 
renown  of  the  nation.  In  1702  he  was  elevated  in 
the  peerage  to  a  dukedom,  and  in  the  years  follow- 
ing fought  and  won  the  glorious  battle  of  Blenheim, 
the  most  splendid,  with  the  exception  of  Waterloo, 
of  all  modern  victories.  Following  it,  in  brilliant 
succession,  came  those  of  Hamilies,  Oudenarde,  and 
Malplaquet. 

In  1704  he  returned  from  his  glorious  campaign, 
with  the  commander-in-chief  of  the  French  army  a 
prisoner  in  his  train,  and  was  rewarded  with  the 
honest  acclamations  of  the  people.  The  rebellion 
of  1715  afforded  him  the  last  opportunity  of  taking 
an  active  part  in  military  affairs ;  and  his  arrange- 
ments for  the  security  of  the  realm  are  said  to  have 
been  admirably  judicious  and  eminently  beneficial. 
He  died  on  the  16th  of  June,  1722,  and  his  remains 
were  laid  with  great  funeral  pomp  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  from  which  they  were  afterward  removed  to 
the  chapel  at  Blenheim. 

His  career  presents  a  brilliant  instance  of  martial 
genius  resolute  perseverance,  and  calm  courage, 
crowned  with  a  success  all  but  unparalleled  in  tho 
history  of  military  achievements. 


BOYHOOD  OF  BONAPARTE, 

When  the  island  of  Corsica  was  invaded  by  tha 
French,  in  1767,  a  young  lawyer  of  Italian  extraction 
was  residing  in  Ajaccio,  its  chief  town.  He  laid 
claim  to  remote  and  illustrious  lineage ;  his  person 
was  handsome  and  his  mind  vigorous.  He  had  mar- 
ried one  of  the  most  accomplished  ladies  who  graced 
the  island,  and  eventually  had  a  family  of  thirteen 
children — eight  of  whom  lived  to  find  their  name  th^ 
terror  and  admiration  of  the  world.  When  the  in 
vasion  occurred  Charles  Bonaparte,  still  in  the  prido 
of  youth,  abandoned  his  peaceful  professional  pur- 
suits, and  eagerly  grasping  the  weapons  of  war, 
united  with  his  brother  islanders  to  resist  the  foreign 
foe.  His  wife,  Letitia,  had  then  one  son,  Joseph  ; 
and,  though  expecting  shortly  to  give  birth  to  another 
infant,  she  followed  the  fortunes  of  her  husband,  ac- 
companying him  in  all  the  perils  and  fatigues  of  that 
conflict,  which  terminated  in  Corsica  becoming  a 
province  of  France,  and  its  inhabitants  the  involun- 
tary subjects  of  the  Bourbons.  While  civil  war  was 
yet  desolating  the  wild,  rugged,  and  picturesque  little 
isle,  the  beauteous  and  high-spirited  Letitia  (having, 
in  anticipation  of  her  confinement,  taken  refuge  in 
her  town  mansion),  was,  on  the  15th  of  August,  1769, 
delivered  of  her  second  son.  Napoleon,  destined  to  be 


BOYHOOD  OF  BONAPARTL.  241 

one  of  the  mightiest  and   most  dreaded  conquerors 
whom  the  world  has  ever  seen 

The  peculiar  circumstances  attending  the  infant- 
hero's  birth  naturally  endeared  him  to  his  father,  who 
often  took  him  affectionately  on  his  knee,  and  recited 
the  bloody  battles  in  which  he  had  taken  part 
These  deeply  aflx3cted  Napoleon,  and  fed  the  warlike 
spirit  that  was  born  within  him.  He  mused  from  in- 
fancy over  these  struggles  ;  and  his  fancy  conjured  up 
ths  sight  of  embattled  hosts  and  routed  foes,  with  the 
sound  of  roaring  cannon  and  the  groans  of  dying  men. 
When  he  was  a  few  years  old  he  lost  his  father  ;  but 
not  until  the  latter  had  observed  indications  of  those 
wonderful  powers  that  ere  long  made  the  kings  of  the 
earth  fall  before  his  military  genius.  Madame  Bo- 
naparte was  thus  left  a  widow,  with  eight  children 
and  limited  means.  But  her  mental  endowments 
were  so  great  as  to  enable  her  to  fulfill  most  credit- 
ably the  duties  devolving  on  her;  and  Napoleon  used 
afterward  to  declare  that  it  was  by  her  training  that 
they  were  fitted  to  act  with  dignity  in  those  lofty  and 
ambitious  heights  to  which  they  in  after-life  attained 
She  resided  with  her  family  at  a  delightful  villa  by 
the  sea-shore,  a  few  miles  distant  from  the  city.  The 
approach  to  the  house  was  bounded  by  high  trees, 
and  bordered  with  blossoming  shrubs.  In  front  was 
a  smooth,  pleasant  lawn,  on  which  the  children  were 
accustomed  to  pursue  their  sports,  happily  uncou- 
scions  that  they  were  ere  long  to  fill  such  high  pUces. 


«48  SOLDIERS. 

But  he,  the  greatest  of  them  all,  and  by  whoso 
genius  they  were  to  be  raised,  was  not  there  ;  for  his 
favorite  and  beloved  resort  was  a  lonely  and  roman- 
tic cave,  still  pointed  out  as  "  Napoleon's  grotto," 
which  was  the  scene  of  his  early  meditations.  Thers 
he  played  fondly  and  contemplatively  with  a  small 
brass  cannon,  whose  sound  and  echo  were  as  music 
to  his  ears  as  it  startled  for  a  moment  his  brothers 
and  sisters,  and  hushed  their  merry  voices.  At  other 
times,  reclining  in  this  dear  and  long-remembered  re- 
treat, with  a  book  spread  before  him,  he  would  gaze 
musingly  on  the  wide  waters  of  the  Mediterranean, 
and  dream,  not  vainly,  of  future  greatness  and  glory. 
Even  at  this  season  he  manifested  his  disposition  to 
rule,  and  even  to  act  in  a  despotic  manner  so  plainly 
that  an  uncle,  as  if  presciently,  remarked,  "Joseph 
is  the  eldest  of  the  family,  but  Napoleon  the  head." 
He  hated  the  French  with  all  his  heart,  and  listened 
with  bitter  and  tumultuous  feelings  to  the  narration 
of  the  severe  woes  which  the  Corsicans  had  sufiered 
m  defense  of  their  insular  rights  and  liberties.  The 
story  of  his  mother's  liardships  and  suflerings,  wlien 
she  and  her  husband  fled  from  village  to  fastness,  and 
from  the  solitary  place  to  the  busy  sea-port,  with  the 
brave  but  vanquished  heroes  of  the  soil,  filled  his 
eyes  with  tears  and  his  heart  with  emotions.  These 
marked  the  peculiar  enthi  siasm  of  his  character,  and 
the  boldness  with  which  he  expressed  his  opinions 
gpeedily  brought  him  into  notice. 


.^(!i^t^rv.:. 


NAPOLBOX'S  WARLIKE  PREDILEnTIOX?!. 


BOYHOOD  OF  BONAPARTE.  251 

At  the  age  of  six  he  was  placed  at  a  school  in 
the  neighborhood,  with  a  number  of  other  children, 
among  whom  one  fair-haired  little  girl  quite  capti- 
vated the  heart  of  the  future  emperor.  He  used  to 
walk  to  and  from  school  leading  her  affectionately  by 
the  hand,  much  to  the  amusement  of  the  older  boys, 
who  of  course  made  very  merry  at  his  expense. 
Sometimes  his  anger  would  rise  at  what  he  conceived 
to  be  their  insulting  ridicule ;  and  he  would  attack 
them  with  every  species  of  weapon,  that  chance 
threw  in  his  way.  He  enjoyed  another,  and  perhaps 
less  enviable,  distinction  at  this  period — that  of  such 
extraordinary  slovenliness  that  his  stockings  were  al- 
most invariably  about  his  heels.  A  juvenile  wit  threw 
the  two  peculiarities  into  a  couplet,  which  was  harass- 
ingly  shouted  about  the  playground  in  his  hearing — 

'"Napoleone  di  mezza  calzetta 
Fa  I'amore  a'  Giacominetta." 

which  being  interpreted,  is :  "  Napoleon,  with  his 
stockings  half  off*,  makes  love  to  Giacominetta," — the 
name  of  the  first  object  of  the  great  conqueror's  af- 
iection.  The  Count  Marbceuf,  who  on  the  subjuga- 
tion of  the  island  had  been  appointed  its  governor, 
being  impressed  with  the  great  beauty  of  Madame 
Bonaparte,  her  dignity  of  bearing  and  intellectual 
gifts,  became  a  warm  friend  of  the  family,  and  tock  a 
special  and  lively  interest  in  Napoleon,  whose  riso  to 
extraordinary  splendor  he  confidently  predicted.  By 
the  influence  of  the  Count,  Napoleon  was  at  the  aj^e 


lb%  SOLDIERS. 

of  ten  admitted  to  the  military  school  at  Brienue,  iieai 
Paris.  On  parting  from  his  mother  the  pang  was 
so  severe  that  he  wept  like  an  ordinarj'  boy. 

On  being  established  at  school,  he  soon  found  that 
his  associates,  mostly  sons  of  the  proud,  haughty,  aud 
exclusive  noblesse  of  France,  regarded  him  as  a  for- 
eigner, and  treated  him  with  an  indiflt'rence  which 
his  sensitive  spirit  could  ill  brook.  Indeed,  he  was 
touched  to  the  quick  with  the  indignities  he  met  with, 
and  laid,  in  mortification,  the  foundation  of  that  pre- 
judice which  he  ever  after  entertained  against  men  of 
high  birth.  His  feelings,  in  this  respect,  at  once  led 
to  his  seclusion  from  the  company  of  his  fellow-stu- 
dents, and  burying  himself  in  books  and  maps,  he  soon 
acquired  so  much  knowledge  as  to  be  looked  upon  and 
spoken  of  as  the  ablest,  brightest,  and  most  hopeful 
youth  in  the  institution.  He  applied  himself  most  par- 
ticularly to  mathematics,  but  history  and  geography 
were,  by  no  means,  neglected  ;  while  Latin  and  the 
ornamental  studies  received  due  and  full  attention. 
In  German  alone  he  could  not  be  brought  to  take  any 
interest ;  and  the  teacher  of  that  language,  conse- 
quently and  excusably  enough,  entertained  a  very  poor 
opinion  of  his  talents.  On  one  occasion.  Napoleon 
being  absent  from  the  class,  the  master,  on  inquiry, 
found  that  he  was  then  employed  in  study  at  the  class 
pf  engineers. 

"  Oh  !  then,  he  does  learn  something,"  said  the 
teacher,  ironically. 


BOYHOOD  OF  BONAPARTE.  25i 

"  Why,  sir,"  exclaimed  one  of  the  pupils,  "  he  is 
esteemed  the  very  first  mathematician  in  the  school." 

■'Truly,"  replied  the  annoyed  and  irritated  Ger- 
man, "  I  have  always  heard  it  remarked,  and  have 
uniformly  believed,  that  any  fool,  and  none  but  a  fool 
ould  learn  mathematics." 

In  relating  this  anecdote  in  after-life,  when  Conti- 
nental Europe  was  at  his  feet,  Napoleon  laughingly 
remarked,  "  It  would  be  curious  to  know  whether  M. 
Bouer  lived  long  enough  to  learn  my  real  character, 
and  enjoy  the  fruits  of  his  own  judgment." 

Napoleon  read  poetry  with  great  delight,  and 
eagerly  devoured  books  on  history,  government,  and 
practical  science  It  was  by  such  means  that  he 
learned  to  "  combine  the  imperial  ardor  of  Alexander 
with  the  strategy  of  Hannibal." 

"Plutarch's  Lives"  were  his  favorite  reading;  and 
his  whole  soul  became  so  imbued  with  the  spirit  of 
the  illustrious  men  therein  treated  of,  that  when  he 
made  the  acquaintance  of  Paoli,  the  veteran  general, 
under  whom  his  father  had  fought  for  Corsican  liberty, 
was  so  struck  with  the  decision  and  energy  of  char- 
acter he  displayed,  that  on  one  occasion  he  rapturously 
and  admiringly  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  Napoleon  I  you  do 
not  at  all  resemble  the  moderns — you  belong  only  tc 
the  heroes  of  Plutarch." 

Each  student  at  Brienne  had  a  small  plot  of  ground 
allotted  to  him,  which  he  was  allowed  to  cultivate  ol 
not,  just  as  he  pleased.      Napoleon  converted  his  into 


854  SOLDIERS. 

a  garden,  in  the  centre  of  which  he  constructed  a  con- 
venient bower,  where  he  could  study  without  the  haz- 
ard of  interruption.  He  gave  his  daj^s  and  nights  to 
mental  toil,  and  his  thoughts  were  wholly  bent  on 
military  glory.  In  a  letter  to  his  mother,  dated  from 
this  place,  he  said,  "  With  my  sword  by  my  side,  and 
Homer  in  my  pocket,  I  hope  to  carve  my  way  tlirough 
the  world."  Many  of  his  companions  disliked  him, 
but  his  character  i'or  honor  and  integrity  commanded 
their  respect.  Yet  he  was  high  in  favor  with  the 
younger  boys,  whom  he  was  ever  zealous  to  defend 
with  courage  and  determination,  against  those  of  riper 
years  and  greater  strength. 

One  oi  the  ladies  of  Briennc  was  in  the  laudable 
habit  of  inviting  the  boys  to  supper  at  her  chateau  ; 
and  on  an  occasion  of  the  kind,  the  conversation 
turned  upon  the  character  of  the  illustrious  Turenne. 

"  He  was  certainly  a  very  great  man,"  said  the  lady 
of  the  house  ;  "  but  I  should  have  liked  him  better 
had  he  not  burned  the  Palatinate." 

"  What  signifies  that,"  was  Napoleon's  too  char- 
acteristic observation,  "  if  the  burning  was  necessary 
to  the  object  he  had  in  view  ?" 

The  winter  of  1781  v/as  one  of  unusual  severity; 
and  the  boys  being  precluded  from  their  ordinary  walks 
and  exercises  by  the  fall  of  snow.  Napoleon  proposed 
that  they  should  beguile  the  time  by  erecting  fortifi- 
cations of  snow.  On  this  plan  being  readily  agreed 
to.  he  at  once  assumed  the  conduct  of  it.     Indeed,  ho 


BOYHOOD  OF  BONAPARTE.  2« 

nad  so  diligently  studied  the  science,  that,  under  his 
Bupeiintendence.  the  works  were  executed  in  accord- 
ance with  the  strictest  rules ;  and  so  determined  and 
overpowering  was  his  strength  of  will,  even  at  this 
early  period,  that  no  one  thought  for  a  moment  of 
questioning  his  authority.  One  luckless  boy  did,  in- 
deed, disobey  orders,  but  Napoleon  unhesitatingly  felled 
him  to  the  ground,  inflicting  a  wound  which  left  a 
mark  for  life. 

This  year  he  was  passed  on  to  the  military  school 
at  Paris,  where  he  immediately  brought  himself  into 
notice  by  addressing  an  energetic  remonstrance  to  the 
governor  against  the  luxurious  and  effeminate  system 
that  prevailed.  He  argued,  certainly  with  some  show 
of  reason,  that  the  student  of  military  affairs  should 
learn  to  groom  his  own  horse,  clean  his  own  armor, 
and  accustom  himself  to  the  performance  of  such 
duties  as  would  be  required  of  him  for  service  in  the 
field  ;  and  it  is  a  striking  fact  that  the  military  school 
afterward  established  by  him  at  Fontainebleau,  was 
founded  on  the  system  recommended  in  this  youthful 
memorial.  Among  the  students  he  was  rather  un* 
popular ;  but  the  diligence  of  his  study,  his  powers 
of  conversation,  and  the  information  he  possessed, 
attracted  much  notice,  and  his  intellectual  superiority 
was  readily  recognized. 

Happening  at  this  time  to  be  at  Marseilles  on  a 
iay  of  festivity,  a  large  parly  of  ladies  and  gentlemen 
were  amusin{r  themselves  with  dancing,  but  Napoleon 


256  SOLDIERS. 

declined  taking  part  in  it.  On  being  rallied  foi  hi? 
want  of  gallantry,  he  sternly  replied,  "  It  is  not  by 
playing  and  dancing  that  a  man  can  be  formed." 
The  Abbe  R-aynal  became  so  forcibly  impressed  with 
his  extraordinary  abilities,  as  to  invite  him  frequently 
to  his  house  to  meet  learned  and  illustrious  guests,  and 
in  after  years  introduced  him  to  the  briUiant  drawing- 
rooms  of  M.  Neckar,  when  embellished  by  the  presence 
of  his  accomphshed  daughter,  Madame  de  Stacl. 

At  the  age  of  sixteen,  on  being  examined  to  receiv« 
a  commission  in  the  army,  Napoleon  passed  the  ordeal 
with  so  much  triumph,  that  the  historical  professor 
wrote  opposite  his  signature,  "  A  Corsican  by  charac- 
ter and  by  birth.  This  young  man  will  distinguish 
himself  in  the  world,  if  favored  by  fortune." 

In  consequence  of  this  examination,  he  was,  much 
to  his  joy,  appointed  second  heutenant  of  a  regiment 
of  artillery.  That  evening,  proudly  arrayed  in  hia 
new  uniform,  with  epaulets  and  enormous  boots,  ho 
called  on  a  lady  with  whom  he  was  intimate,  and 
who  afterward  became  one  of  the  most  brilliant  stars 
of  the  imperial  court.  A  younger  sister  of  hers  being 
present,  struck  with  his  ludicrous  appearance,  pre- 
sented by  his  slender  proportions  being  encased  in 
military  habits,  laughed  aloud,  and  declared  that  he 
resembled  nothing  so  much  as  Puss  in  Boots.  The 
raillery  was  acutely  felt  at  the  moment;  but  a  few 
days  after,  to  show  that  he  had  completely  recovered 
from  its  eflects,  he  rcUinied  to  the  house,  and  pre- 


BOYHOOD  OF  BONAPARTE  257 

senled  the  mirthful  damsel  with  an  elegantly  bound 
copy  of  the  hook  from  which  she  had  drawn  her 
rather  severe  allusion. 

Proud,  and  worthily  so,  of  his  commission,  Napo 
leon  betook  himself  to  join  his  regiment  at  Valence. 
Tliere  he  attracted  the  attention  of  one  of  its  most 
distinguished  ladies,  Madame  de  Colombier,  who  in- 
troduced him  to  much  refined  society. 

From  Valence  he  was  sent  to  Lyons,  where  he 
devoted  himself  to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  with 
remarkable  energy  and  industry.  The  Academ.y 
having  offered  a  prize  for  the  best  dissertation  on  the 
question,  "  What  are  the  institutions  most  likely  to 
contribute  to  human  happiness  ?"  Napoleon  wrote 
on  the  subject,  and  was  successful  in  his  efforts  against 
numerous  competitors.  He  also  prepared  a  "History 
of  Corsica,"  which  he  visited  in  1791  ;  hut  the  storms 
that  appeared  on  the  political  horizon  prevented  him 
from  publishing  it.  He  was  at  Paris  in  1792,  when 
the  Tuileries  were  attacked  and  the  Swiss  guards 
massacred,  and  took  occasion  to  express  his  disgust 
with  the  scene.  It  is  unnecessary  to  sketch  the  next 
seven  years  of  his  life,  which,  indeed,  would  he  the 
history  of  the  world  during  that  period. 

He  was  declared  First  Consul  in  December,  1799, 
and  Chief  Consul  for  life  in  1802.  Two  years  later 
he  was  proclaimed  Emperor  ;  but  was  deposed,  and 
his  dynasty  declared  at  an  end,  in  1S14,  Avhen  he 
was  sent  to  Elba. 

Pw 


258  SOLDIERS. 

Escaping,  he  arrived  at  Paris  ;  aiU  on  the  18th  of 
June,  1815,  he  fought  the  decisive  battle  of  Waterloo 
when,  being  totally  defeated,  he  was  banished  to  St. 
Helena.  There  he  died  on  the  5th  of  May,  1821, 
without  pain  and  in  silence,  during  a  convulsion  of 
the  elements.  The  last  words  he  stammered  out 
were,  "  Army"  and  "  France  ;"  but  whether  it  was 
intended  as  an  adieu  could  not  be  ascertained. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
illneiciattB. 


BOYHOOD  OF  HAND1:L. 

Music,  it  seems,  is  an  attainment  denied  to  v/cll- 
directed  perseverance,  and  dependent,  in  a  great 
measure,  on  certain  original  qualities,  which  are  not 
to  be  acquired  ;  but  still  application  in  the  case  of 
those  on  whom  the  precious  gift  has  been  bestowed, 
is  not,  on  that  account,  by  any  means  unnecessary. 

George  Frederick  Handel  was,  perhaps,  the  great- 
est melodist  and  musical  composer  whom  Providence 
has  ever  endowed  with  talents  to  delight  and  enrap- 
ture his  fellow-creatures.  His  works,  as  has  been 
remarked,  are  so  numerous  and  different  in  their 
kind,  as  to  elude  all  save  general  criticism  ;  but  cer- 
tainly it  is  impossible  to  listen  to  them,  without  ex- 
periencing emotions  of  the  most  exquisite  kind. 

He  was  born  at  Halle,  in  Upper  Saxony,  on  the 
24th  of  February,  1GS4  ;  and  almost  in  infancy,  dis- 
played his  wonderful  taste  and  extraordinary  capacity 
for  music.     Michael  Kelly  relates  of  himself,  with 


/X>0  MUSICIANS 

his  usual  richness  of  humor,  that,  when  three  years 
old,  he  was  accustomed  to  be  placed  on  his  father's 
tahle,  along  with  the  wine,  to  sing  for  the  entertain- 
ment of  his  guests,  and  was  thus  led  to  cultivate  the 
talent  with  which  nature  had  blessed  him  ;  but  Han- 
del's sublime  genius  had  no  such  encouragement. 
That— 

"Music  hath  charms  to  soothe  a  savage  breast, 
To  soften  rocks,  or  bend  a  knotted  oak," 

would  probably  and  naturally  have  been  pleaded  in 
vain  to  his  father,  an  eminent  physician,  who  was 
anxious  to  bring  up  his  son  to  the  profession  of  the 
law.  At  all  events,  he  showed  no  sympathy  with 
the  enthusiastic  boy's  innate  passion.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  endeavored  to  repress  it  by  every  means  in 
his  power — especially  by  sending  every  thing  in  the 
shape  of  a  nmsical  instrument  out  of  the  house. 
Young  Handel's  potent  genius  was  not,  however,  to 
be  thus  baffled  or  subdued.  He  enhsted  the  aid  of 
a  trusted  servant,  with  whose  assistance  he  continued 
to  indulge  and  dehght  in  his  musical  prepossessions. 
At  the  top  of  the  house  was  a  solitary  garret, 
which  became  the  scene  of  his  juvenile  eflorts. 
There  he  kept  a  small  clavichord,  an  instrument  in 
the  form  of  a  spinet,  with  strings  so  covered  with 
htlle  pieces  of  cloth  as  to  deaden  or  soften  the  sound. 
Upon  this,  he  carefully  and  industriously  practiced 
every  evening,  after  the  other  members  of  the  family 
had  botaken  themselves  to  repose.     Thus  he  became 


novHooi)  OF  HAMDJiJL.  aoi 

d  proficient  m  harmony,  without  the  advantage  of 
any  instruction  whatever.  For  years  he  carried  on 
this  system  ;  and  the  extent  of  his  accompHshments 
was  first  brought  to  hght  by  his  strong  and  absorb- 
ing interest  in  music  and  musical  instruments. 

An  elder  brother  being  in  the  household  of  thw 
Prince  of  Saxe-Weissenfels,  Handel  was,  at  the  age 
of  seven,  taken  by  his  father  on  a  visit  to  the  ducal 
palace.  While  wandering  through  the  apartments, 
he  could  not  withstand  the  temptation  of  touching 
with  his  fingers  the  notes  of  tlie  harpsichord,  the 
very  sight  of  which  had  an  irresistible  fascination  for 
him.  Happening  to  arrive  at  the  royal  chapel  just 
as  the  service  was  concluding,  he  stole  into  it  unper- 
ceived,  and  commenced  playing  upon  the  organ. 
The  rich  sounds  he  drew  from  its  notes  came  just  in 
time  to  reach  the  ears  of  the  prince,  as  he  was  cere- 
moniously retiring ;  and  he  immediately  inquired 
who  was  playing.  Handel's  brother,  being  in  attend- 
ance on  the  occasion,  turned  back  to  ascertain  ;  and 
finding,  with  surprise,  who  the  person  was,  commu- 
nicated the  intelligence  to  his  master,  adding  that 
the  performer  was  only  seven  years  old.  The  prince 
then  requested,  that  both  father  and  son  should  be 
brought  to  his  presence ;  and  the  interview  resulted 
in  Handel  being  placed  for  tuition  under  the  organist 
of  Halle  cathedral.  The  latter,  with  creditable 
discernment,  allowed  the  young  musician  to  form  his 
own  style,  according  to  the  promptings  of  his  young 


262  MUSICIANS. 

genius,  furnishing  iilra,  at  the  same  time,  with  assist- 
ance in  every  way  calculated  to  contribute  to  his 
improvement  in  the  science.  In  this  kind  of  disci- 
pline he  remained  for  two  years ;  and  so  rapid  had 
been  his  progress,  that  when  that  period  came  to  a 
conclusion,  he  was  qualified  to  officiate,  now  and 
then,  as  organist  for  his  instructor,  and  occasionally  to 
furnish  compositions  for  the  church  service.  Thus 
passed  the  time  till  he  was  fourteen. 

It  was  then  deemed  advisable  that  he  should  pro- 
ceed for  further  instruction  to  Berlin,  where  he  was 
accordingly  sent,  and  there  he  made  the  acquaintance 
of  Attilio  and  Bononcini,  who  were  afterward  his 
rivals  on  English  ground.  The  former  behaved  to 
the  boy  with  great  kindness  and  encouraging  famili- 
arity ;  but  the  other  assumed  toward  him  a  sullen 
and  supercilious  bearing. 

It  must  be  confessed,  however,  that  Handel  had 
his  revenge  more  than  twenty  years  later,  in  that 
great  musical  contest,  in  which  Handel  was  declared 
the  victor.     It  was  thus  alluded  to  by  Swift : 

"  Compared  with  Sigiior  Bononcini, 
Some  say  that  Handel's  a  mere  ninny, 
Others  assert  that  he  to  Handel 
I3  scarcely  fit  to  hold  a  candle." 

The  Dean,  with  his  wonted  ability  and  bitterness, 
adds  : 

"  Strange,  such  a  difference  there  should  ba 
'Twixt  tweedle-dum  and  tweedle-dee  " 


BOYHOOD  OF  HANDEL.  263 

Meantime  llie  King  of  Prussia  treated  the  young 
musician  with  marked  attention,  often  desired  to  see 
him  at  the  palace,  and  kindly  expressed  a  wish  tc 
send  him  to  Italy.  But  Handel  thought  fit  to  decline 
the  tempting  ofier,  and  returned  to  his  native  city. 
Soon  after  this  his  father  died,  and  Handel  set  off  for 
Hamburg,  where  he  supported  himself  by  the  exer- 
cise of  his  musical  talents.  It  was  some  time,  how- 
ever, before  he  had  a  fitting  opportunity  to  display 
them  to  full  advantage  before  the  public. 

At  length,  on  the  occasion  of  the  first  harpsichord- 
player  of  the  opera  being  absent,  Handel  was  pre- 
vailed upon  to  perform  instead  of  him,  and  exhibited 
his  mighty  power  over  a  keyed  instrument  so  sig- 
nally, that  he  was  loudly  applauded,  and  when  a  va- 
cancy occurred  he  was  at  once  appointed  to  the  office 
in  preference  to  the  second  harpsichord-player.  The 
latter  was  so  vehemently  enraged  at  the  circumstance, 
that  one  evening,  taking  Handel  out  of  the  orchestra, 
he  drew  his  sword,  and  attempted  with  one  thrust 
to  put  a  period  to  the  existence  of  his  successful  rival. 
Handel's  life  was  providentially  saved  by  the  weapon 
breaking  against  a  metal  button  on  his  coat ;  and  from 
that  date  he  had  the  entire  management  and  control 
of  the  performance.  He  shortly  after,  with  great  suc- 
cess, brought  his  first  opera  "  Almira"  upon  the  stage ; 
it  had  a  run  of  no  less  than  thirty  nights. 

On  the  invitation  of  the  Grand  Duke  he  next  paid 
a  most  satisfactor}  visit  to  Florence,  from  which  he 


801  MUSICLVTMS. 

went  to  Venice — his  reputation  steadily  increasing 
After  this  he  took  up  his  residence  under  the  patron- 
age of  the  Elector  of  Hanover,  afterward  George  the 
First  of  England.  The  latter  country  he  visited  in 
1710,  when  he  composed  the  music  to  "  Rinaldo"  in 
the  short  space  of  a  fortnight.  So  rapidly,  indeed,  did 
his  ideas  flow  that  he  hardly  gave  the  author  of  the 
play  time  to  write.  Two  years  later  he  settled  in 
England,  and  thereby  gave  great  offense  to  the  Elec- 
tor, who,  on  ascending  the  Enghsh  throne,  was  with 
difficulty  prevailed  upon  to  receive  Handel  into  favor. 
The  intercession  of  a  German  baron,  who  planned  a 
water  excursion,  and  contrived  that  Handel  should 
surprise  the  royal  barge  with  a  piece  composed  for  the 
purpose,  effected  a  reconciliation;  and  the  great  melo- 
dist continued,  with  brief  intervals,  to  reside  in  this 
country  during  the  remaining  years  of  his  life.  His 
"Messiah"  was  first  produced  at  Covent  Garden  in 
1741,  under  the  title  of  "  A  Sacred  Oratorio;"  but 
it  was  not  till  the  next  year  that  it  met  with  the  ap- 
plause and  admiration  which  it  merited. 

Handel  made  his  last  public  appearance  in  the 
spring  of  1759,  and,  dying  soon  after,  was  buried  in 
Wcstminstar  Abbey.  A  statue  of  him,  graven  by 
the  careful  and  delicate  hand  of  Roubiliac,  bears  on 
a  scroll  the  words,  "  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liv- 
eth,"  with  the  notes  to  which  the  words  are  set  in  his 
sublime  oratorio 


BOYHOOD  OF  MOZART 

This  great  musical  composer  was  a  wonderful  in« 
stance  of  precocious  genius.  From  his  earliest  yeara 
he  was  devoted  to  the  art  which  occupied  his  atten- 
tion to  the  last  hours  of  his  life.  His  display^  when  a 
simple  and  innocent  child  appear  to  have  been  quite 
marvelous  ;  while  the  indefatigable  industry  with 
which,  unallurcd  by  the  enthusiastic  praises  bestow- 
ed on  them,  he  continued  to  cultivate  his  extraordi- 
nary powers,  reads  an  instructive  and  edifying  lesson 
in  regard  to  the  true  means  for  the  attainment  of  ex- 
cellence. With  a  success  in  swaying  the  hearts  of 
others  which  would  have  intoxicated  many,  especially 
at  so  early  an  age,  he  continued  meek  and  gentle  ; 
and  so  little  was  he  elated  with  his  splendid  achieve- 
ments that  within  a  few  hours  of  his  death,  he  mod- 
estly rem.arked,  "  Now  I  begin  to  see  what  might  be 
done  in  music." 

The  grandfather  of  this  musical  prodigy  was  a  book- 
binder in  Augsburg  ;  his  father  was  one  of  the  court 
musicians  at  Salzburg.  The  latter  on  being  settled 
in  life  wedded  a  fair  damsel  belonging  to  the  city  of 
his  adoption  ;  and  the  newly-married  pair  were  so 
conspicuous  for  their  beauty  that  a  handsomer  couple, 
it  was  remarked,  had  never  been  seen  on  the  banks 
of  the  Salza.  In  the  year  of  Wolfgang's  birth  his 
father  published  a  work,  entitled,  "  An  Attempt  to- 


2b6  MUSICIANS. 

ward  a  Fundamental  System  for  the  Violin,"  which 
was  much  valued. 

John  Chrysostom  Wolfgang  Amadeus  Mozart  was 
born  at  Salzburg,  then  esteemed  one  of  the  finest  cities 
in  Germany,  on  the  27th  of  January,  1756.  His 
father  Leopold  enjoyed  considerable  reputation  as  a 
musician,  and  the  whole  family  had  a  natural  turn 
for  the  art  with  which  their  name  is  now  so  inti- 
mately connected.  The  young  Wolfgang  was  there- 
fore favorably  situated  for  the  development  of  the 
faculty,  with  which  he  was  gifted  to  so  surprising  a 
degree ;  but  at  first  gave  himself  entirely  to  the  games 
which  usually  interest  children  in  the  first  two  or 
three  years  of  their  lives.  Indeed  so  enthusiastic  was 
he  in  pursuing  his  play,  that  he  even  sacrificed  his 
meals  to  indulge  in  it  with  the  greater  freedom.  He 
was  remarkable  beyond  others  for  his  sensibility  and 
afiection,  and  sometimes  would  ask  his  parents  ten 
times  a  day,  "Do  you  love  me  much?"  and  if  they 
jestingly  replied  in  the  negative  he  Avould  seek  relief 
in  a  flood  of  tears.  His  elder  sister  in  her  seventh 
year  gave  indications  of  those  talents  which  afterward 
raised  her  fame  so  high  as  a  performer  on  a  keyed 
instrument.  Her  musical  education  commenced  when 
Mozart  had  nearly  reached  the  age  of  three,  and  it 
was  his  delight  to  be  present  at  the  lessons  she  re- 
ceived, and  to  attempt  with  his  tiny  fingers  to  strike 
thirds  or  other  harmonious  intervals  on  the  clavier, 
a  keyed  instrument  wl;  ich  was  the  precursor  ?f  the 


BOYHOOD  OF  MOZART.  267 

piano-forte.     At  four  he  could  retain  in  his  memory 
the  brilliant  solos  in  the  concertos,  which  he  learned; 
/lis  father  began,  half  in  sport,  to  give  him  lessons ; 
and  he  composed  little  pieces  which  were  written 
down  for  him.     He  had  already  learned  to  play  sev- 
eral minuets  on  the  harpsichord ;  and  it  was  his  good 
fortune  never  to  forget  an  air  when  he  had  once  mas- 
tered it.    His  childish  gambols  gave  way  to  the  bright 
aspirations  that  sometimes  animate  opening  boyhood. 
He  required  but  half  an  hour  to  be  perfect  in  a  minuet, 
and  for  other  pieces  a  proportionate  period.     Having 
experienced  pleasure  in  the  harmony  of  others  he  im- 
mediately became  a  composer  himself,  and  such  had 
been  his  progress  that  at  the  age  of  five  he  had  com- 
posed several  pieces  of  music,  trivial  in  themselves, 
it  is  true,  but  justly  regarded  as  mii'aculous  for  sc 
young  an  aspirant,  by  those  who  marked  the  results 
of  his  daily  efforts.     It  is  not  altogether  certain  that 
the  specimens  held  up  as  such  were  actually  his  first 
attempts,  otherwise  it  would  be  highly  interesting  to 
mark  the  first  glimmerings  of  that  genius  which  after- 
ward accomplished  so  much.    No  pastime  could  now 
interest  or  amuse  him  that  was  not  in  some  way  con- 
nected with  his  favorite  pursuit ;  and  it  was  a  great 
matter  with  the  circle  to  contrive  such  games  as  ad- 
mitted of  his  joining  in  them  with  the  violin  or  other 
instrument.     His  musical  talents  were  not,  however, 
cultivated  to  the  exclusion  of  the  other  branches  of 
•education,  to  M'hich  he  applied  himself  for  some  time 


S56B  MUSICIANS. 

with  great  diligence,  and  conceived  a  strong  love  foi 
arithmetic.  His  energy  and  determination  were  such 
that  whatever  he  undertook  was  sure  to  be  accom- 
phshed,  so  that  he  profited  considerably  by  the  slight 
general  education  he  received. 

His  father,  who,  unlike  Handel's,  had  regarded  the 
wonderful  precocity  of  the  boy  with  great  gladness, 
carried  him  along  with  his  clever  sister  to  the  Bava- 
rian court  at  Munich  in  17G2,  when  Wolfgang,  giv- 
ing up  every  other  pursuit,  obeyed  the  law  of  his 
nature,  and  commenced  his  brilliant  career.  From 
this  time  his  efibrts  never  slackened.  At  Munich 
they  remained  a  few  weeks,  and  then  returned. 
Having  met  with  a  courteous  and  kind  reception 
from  the  Elector,  and  promises  of  support  and  pa- 
tronage, he  resumed  his  studies  with  great  ardor  and 
diligence. 

One  day,  his  father,  on  returning  from  church  with 
a  friend,  found  his  son  occupied  with  writing,  and 
asked — 

"  What  are  you  about  there  ?" 

"  I  am  composing  a  concerto  for  the  harpsichord  ; 
I  have  almost  finished  the  first  part,"  replied  the 
boy. 

'•  Let  us  see  this  scrawl.' 

"  No  ;  if  you  please.     1  have  not  yet  finished  it." 

It  seemed,  indeed,  so  much  of  a  scribble,  and  so 
illegible  from  the  blots  of  ink,  that  at  first  it  only 
excited  laughter  ;  but  Mozart's  father  having  exam- 


BOYHOOD  OF  MOZART.  26G 

ined  it  with  closeness  and  attention,  remarked  to  his 
friend — 

"  See  how  exactly  it  is  composed  by  rule !  'Tis 
a  pity  we  can  not  make  out  something  of  this  piece  ; 
but  it  is  too  difficult.     Nobody  could  play  it." 

"  It  is  a  concerto,"  observed  Mozart ;  "  and  should 
be  well  studied  before  being  performed.  See,  this  is 
the  way  you  should  begin  I"  And  commencing  to 
play  it,  he  succeeded  sufficiently  to  discover  his  idea. 
Indeed,  it  consisted  of  a  number  of  notes,  placed  ex- 
actly according  to  rule,  but  presenting  such  difficul- 
ties, that  the  most  proficient  musician  would  in  vain 
have  attempted  to  execute  them. 

In  his  sixth  year,  Mozart  began  to  elicit  sounds 
from  the  violin,  which  many  a  practiced  and  profes- 
sional performer  might  have  envied.  One  day  a  cel- 
ebrated violinist  came  to  his  father  to  ask  his  opinion 
of  six  trios,  which  he  had  just  composed.  It  was 
agreed  that  they  should  be  tried,  and  that  the  elder 
Mozart  should  jjlay  the  bass,  the  composer  himself 
the  first  violin,  and  the  Archbishop's  trumpeter,  who 
happened  to  be  present,  the  second ;  but  the  young 
Mozart  insisted  so  strongly  on  taking  this  last  part, 
that  his  father  was  finally  induced  to  yield  to  his  im- 
portunity and  consent  to  his  performing  on  his  little 
violin.  The  father,  who  had  not  previously  heard 
him  play  on  this  instrument,  was  astonished  and  de- 
lighted to  find  that  he  executed  the  six  trios  with 
great  success. 


?70  MUSICIANS. 

In  Septefmber,  1762,  the  Mozart  family  removed 
to  Vienna,  where  they  received  a  gracious  welcomo 
from  their  Majesties ;  and  Wolfgang  soon  became  a 
favorite  at  the  Imperial  court,  which  was  quite 
charmed  with  his  remarkable  skill.  One  day  the 
Emperor  said  to  him  in  joke,  "  You  do  not  find  it 
difficult  to  play  with  all  the  fingers  ;  but  to  play  with 
one  finger,  and  the  notes  out  of  sight,  must  indeed 
excite  admiration."  Without  manifesting  the  slight- 
est surprise  at  such  a  proposal,  the  boy  immediately 
began  to  play  with  one  finger,  without  finding  any 
difficulty  in  maintaining  his  usual  precision.  This 
flattery  bestowed  upon  him,  and  the  splendor  in 
v/liich  he  moved,  had  not  the  effect  of  spoiling  him 
in  the  slightest  degree.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  a 
most  patient  and  submissive  boy ;  and  throughout 
continued  most  amiable  and  tender-hearted.  Ho 
never  appeared  out  of  humor  with  the  commands 
of  his  parents,  no  matter  what  their  nature  might 
be ;  and,  even  after  he  had  practiced  music  nearly 
the  whole  day,  he  would  continue  to  do  so  without 
the  slightest  marks  of  impatience,  if  such  was  their 
wish. 

When  Wolfgang  had  completed  his  seventh  year 
the  whole  family  left  Salzburg  for  Paris.  His  fame 
had  preceded  him,  and  the  name  of  the  innocent  and 
affectionate  German  boy  was  already  celebrated  in 
the  bright  and  airy  city  of  the  Seine.  Being  intro- 
duced by  the  lady  of  the  Bavarian  embassador,  ho 


BOYHOOD  OF  MOZART.  271 

forthwith  received  an  invitation  to  Versailles,  gave 
an  organ  performance  in  the  chapel  with  his  wonted 
success,  and  received  the  rapturous  applause  of  the 
magnificent  and  voluptuous  court.  Two  grand  con- 
certs were  likewise  given  before  the  public.  The 
Mozarts  had  their  portraits  taken,  and  poems  were 
written  upon  them. 

About  this  time  he  first  appeared  in  print  as  the 
author  of  two  sets  of  sonatas,  one  dedicated  to  the 
King's  daughter,  and  the  other  to  the  Countess 
Tesse.  The  former  acknowledged  the  compliment 
by  the  gift  of  a  gold  snufi-box,  while  the  Princess 
presented  him  with  a  silver  stand ish  and  pens. 

In  the  April  of  next  year,  they  left  for  England, 
and  took  up  their  residence  in  London.  Here  Mo- 
zart's efibrts  were  again  rewarded  with  the  praise  of 
a  court ;  but  this  time,  that  of  the  people  was  deserv- 
edly added  to  it,  and  the  performances  of  himself  and 
his  sister  caused  enthusiastic  admiration.  During 
his  sojourn  Mozart  produced  six  sonatas,  which  were 
dedicated  to  the  Queen,  and  published  in  London. 
Leopold  found  this  visit  much  more  profitable  than 
any  of  the  former  had  been,  and  he  wrote  to  his 
friends  at  home  in  terms  of  gratified  pride.  In  the 
course  of  1765,  he  returned  with  his  children  to 
France,  and  traveled  through  the  greater  part  of  it, 
the  young  musician  trying  most  of  the  organs  in  the 
churches  and  monasteries  that  lay  in  their  path. 
Leaving  the  territories  of  the  French  King,  they  con- 


272  MUSICIANS. 

tinued  tlioir  journey  into  Holland.  At  the  Hague 
Mozart  composed  a  symphony  for  a  full  orchestra, 
to  celebrate  the  installation  of  the  Prince  of  Orange. 
Here  both  brother  and  sister  were  seized  with  an  ill- 
ness so  severe  as  to  threaten  the  lives  of  both  ;  but 
happily  they  recovered,  and  were  soon  sufficiently  re- 
stored to  undertake  a  short  visit  to  Paris,  from  which 
they  went  to  their  native  home  on  the  banks  of  the 
Salza,  and  Mozart  enjoyed  an  interval  of  peace  and 
repose.  This  could  not  but  be  welcome  and  agree- 
able after  the  formality  and  glitter  to  which  he  had 
lately  been  accustomed,  and  it  was  pleasantly  passed 
in  the  study  of  such  masters  as  were  deemed  fitting 
guides  for  his  own  future  compositions. 

An  amusing  anecdote  is  told  of  him,  relating  to 
this  period.  A  pompous  gentleman,  visiting  the 
family  on  their  return,  was  extremely  perplexed  how 
to  address  the  young  musician :  and  not  knowing 
whether  to  do  it  in  the  respectful  or  familiar  style, 
took  a  middle  course  : 

"  And  so  wc  have  been  in  England  and  France, 
and  have  been  at  court,  and  have  done  ourselves 
much  honor,"  said  he,  playfully. 

The  little  hero  felt  his  dignity  touched,  and  re])lied, 
"  Yet  I  never  remember  to  have  seen  you  any  where 
else  but  at  Salzburg." 

In  17C8  the  Mozarts  again  performed  at  Vienna 
before  the  Emperor,  but  the  lame  Wolfgang  had 
acquired  iu  his  progress  through  Europe  had  raised 


BOYHOOD  OF  MOZART.  273 

the  fears  and  jealousy  of  the  musicians  of  the  impe- 
rial city,  "who  conspired  and  concerted  a  discreditable 
scheme  for  destroying  his  reputation.  The  Emperor 
had,  some  time  before  this  conspiracy  came  to  light, 
proposed  an  opera  to  his  young  protege,  and  the  elJer 
Mozart,  thinking  it  was  a  grand  idea  for  a  boy  of 
twelve  to  compose  an  opera  and  direct  it  himself,  en- 
tered readily  upon  the  project  as  promising  lasting  and 
crowning  glory  to  his  son.  In  a  few  days  the  opera 
was  ready  ;  but  delays,  excuses,  and  stratagems,  pre- 
vented it  from  ever  appearing. 

Mozart  bore  so  bravely  the  unworthy  slanders  of 
jealous  rivals,  that  in  little  more  than  a  month  he 
had  added  very  considerably  to  his  compositions, 
enjoyed  the  public  applause,  and  returned  to  Salz- 
burg. 

Once  more  in  his  native  home,  he  applied  himself 
to  the  highest  branches  of  the  study  of  his  art,  and 
devoted  some  time  to  the  Italian  language.  In  1769 
he  was  appointed  concert-master  to  the  Archbishop  ; 
and  though  the  appointment  was  neither  very  profit- 
able nor  honorable,  it  turned  his  attention  to  the 
composition  of  masses,  and  most  of  his  were  composed 
while  he  held  it. 

In  the  December  of  the  same  year  he  went  with 
his  father  to  Italy,  where  he  found  an  audience  ready 
and  willing  to  recognize  and  appreciate  excellence. 
He  first  appeared  at  Milan,  and  justified  his  wide- 
spread fame.  The  Milanese,  conscious  of  the  treas* 
S 


274  MUSICIANS. 

lire  they  had  among  them,  could  not  think  of  alloW' 
ing  them  to  depart  without  the  promise  of  a  speedy 
return,  and  he  left,  after  having  promised  to  compose 
the  first  opera  for  the  carnival  of  1771. 

At  Florence  he  excited  unbounded  admiration,  and 
thence  went  to  E-ome,  where  he  arrived  in  Passion 
Week.  The  celebrated  "  Miserere"  was  to  be  per- 
formed, and  among  the  rigors  of  the  Papal  Court  it 
had  prohibited  the  issue  of  a  single  copy.  Aware  of 
this,  INIozart,  when  at  the  chapel,  listened  so  atten- 
tively that  on  returning  home  he  was  able  to  note 
down  the  whole  piece.  On  Good  Friday  the  game 
"  Miserere"  was  executed,  and  he  was  again  present 
durin"^  the  performance,  and  made  the  necessary  cor- 
rections in  his  manuscript.  This  wonderful  feat  -was 
the  subject  of  astonishment  and  admiration  through- 
out Fvome ;  but  the  greatness  of  the  efibrt  can  only 
be  fully  appreciated  by  such  as  are  acquainted  with 
the  mysteries  and  difficulties  of  the  art.  Subsequently 
he  sang  the  "  Miserere"  from  his  manuscript  in  a 
manner  that  those  most  competent  to  judge  declared 
faultless. 

Mozart  found  a  friend  and  patron  in  the  Pope, 
who,  in  recognition  of  his  genius,  created  him  a 
Knight  of  the  Golden  Spur.  Bologna  testified  her 
a(hniration  by  naming  him  a  member  of  the  Phil- 
harmonic Academy,  and  the  composition  required  of 
every  member  on  election  was  completed  by  him  in 
bilf-an-hour. 


BOYHOOD  OF   MOZART.  2rt 

True  to  his  engagement  to  the  Milanese,  he  re 
traced  his  steps  to  their  city,  and  had  what  at  that 
time  was  considered  the  highest  honor  a  musician 
could  enjoy — the  privilege  of  composing  the  first 
opera  scria  for  the  Roman  theatre.  Two  months 
after  his  arrival,  the  results  of  the  labor  he  had  un- 
dergone during  them  were  given  to  the  public  in  tlie 
form  of  an  opera,  entitled  "  Mithridates."  It  was 
played  for  the  first  time  in  December,  1770,  Mozart 
having  then  almost  completed  his  fifteenth  year.  It 
had  a  run  of  twenty  nights,  and  quite  captivated  the 
public.  Three  years  afterward  Mozart  presented  the 
Milanese  with  another  opera,  which  was  even  more 
successful  than  his  previous  production. 

His  fame  had  now  spread  from  one  end  of  Europe 
to  the  other  ;  and  at  nineteen  years  of  age,  when  his 
eventful  boyhood  may  be  said  to  have  closed,  he  could 
make  choice  of  any  capital  in  which  to  establish  him- 
self Paris  was  selected  by  his  father  as  apparently 
the  most  appropriate,  and  accordingly  the  marvelous 
Wolfgang  journeyed  thither,  accompanied  by  his 
mother.  He  returned,  in  1779,  to  his  father's  house, 
and  died  in  his  thirty-sixth  year,  much  lamented  by 
&1I  who  knew  him. 


CHAPTER  XfY 
Painters. 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  THOMAS  LAWRENCE. 

A  POET,  with  lofty  but  unrealized  aspirations — an 
innkeeper,  -with  a  tantalizing  habit  of  deluging  his 
customers  with  recitations  before  he  supplied  them 
with  liquor,  was  the  father  of  this  great  painter,  who 
gave  sure  promise  of  his  future  excellence  at  a  time 
of  life  usually  devoted  to  playing  at  marbles,  or 
making  vain  essays  to  fly  kites — who,  at  ten,  had 
won  a  wide-spread  celebrity,  and  who,  "by  the  magic 
of  his  art,"  has  preserved  for  posterity  the  likenesses 
of  so  many  talented  men  and  beautiful  women.  Old 
Lawrence  had  been  an  orphan  almost  from  infancy, 
and  had  early  conceived  the  idea  that  he  was  destined 
to  be  a  poet  of  renown.  In  his  sixteenth  year  he  was 
articled  to  an  attorney  in  Hertfordshire  ;  and  having 
a  small  patrimony,  on  the  expiration  of  his  stipulated 
time  of  service,  he  was  offered  a  share  of  his  employ, 
er's  business  ;  but  with  the  temperament  of  a  poet,  he 
chose  rather  to  indulge  in  a  to'ir,  with  the  purpose 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  THOMAS  LAWRENCE.       277 

of  visiting  some  of  the  most  interesting  parts  of  the 
country,  in  the  company  of  a  friend,  who  doubtless 
had  "  thought,  feeling,  taste,  harmonious  to  his  own." 
Having  penetrated  into  Worcestershire,  Lawrence 
was  so  captivated  with  the  surpassing  beauty  of 
Tenbury  in  that  county,  that  he  determined  to  halt 
there  for  a  short  time  to  indulge  in  his  poetic  reveries 
and  practice  versification.  While  passing  the  hours 
away  in  this  manner,  and  feeding  his  mind  with  the 
images  of  great  days  in  store  for  him,  he  became  vio- 
lently enamored  of  a  young  lady  of  the  neighborhood. 
This  was  Miss  Pi-ead,  of  Brockett  Hall,  whom  he  secret- 
ly married,  much  to  the  vexation  of  her  parents,  who, 
on  becoming  aware  of  the  fact,  indignantly  banished 
her  from  their  presence. 

This  was  no  agreeable  circumstance  for  the  loving 
couple,  and  doubtless  apprised  the  youthful  and  as- 
piring poet  that  there  was  something  more  than  ro- 
mance m  life.     However — 

"The  world  was  all  before  them,  where  to  chose 
Their  place  of  rest ;   and  Providence  their  guide." 

So  they  set  off  for  Thaxted,  in  Essex,  where  they 
took  a  small  house,  and  were  blessed  with  several 
children. 

Mr.  Lawrence  subsequently,  by  the  influence  of 
his  wife's  relations,  obtained  the  supervisorship  of 
Excise  at  Bristol,  and  in  that  ancient  city  his  dis- 
tinguished son  was  born,  on  the  fourth  of  May,  1769, 


27b  TAINTEKS. 

the  youngest  of  sixteen  children.  In  the  same  year 
the  father  resigned  his  appointnaent  in  the  Excise, 
and  took  the  White  Lion  Inn,  from  which  he  short- 
ly afterward  removed  to  the  Black  Bear  at  Devizes. 
Here  he  is  stated  to  have  worried  the  temper  of  his 
customers  by  reciting  Shakspeare  in  and  out  of  season, 
ind  without  the  slightest  regard  to  their  wishes. 
Not  content  with  displaying  his  own  powers  in  this 
vvav,  he  labored  to  infuse  into  his  son  a  love  of  the 
same  sort  of  performance,  an  object  in  which  he  ere 
lono-  succeeded  ;  and  such  was  the  versatility  of  his 
talents,  that  the  visitors  to  the  Black  Bear,  on  having 
the  young  prodigy  presented  to  them,  were  asked, 
•'  Will  you  have  him  recite  from  the  poets  or  take 
your  portraits  ?" 

When  Lawrence  was  four  years  old,  he  could  read 
the  story  of  Joseph  and  his  brethren  with  great  effect, 
and  soon  after  recite  some  pieces  from  Pope  with  taste 
and  feeling.  Besides  his  skill  in  copying  and  draw- 
ing portraits  became  so  apparent,  and  so  delighted 
was  the  worthy  innkeeper  with  these  accomplish- 
ments, that  he  never  failed  to  bring  them  under  the 
notice  of  any  persons  of  distinction  who  happened  to 
Bojourn  at  the  Black  Bear. 

During  his  seventh  and  eighth  years,  Lawrence 
attended  a  school  at  Bristol,  and  the  instruction  he 
then  received,  with  some  lessons  iu  Latin  and  French 
from  a  Dissenting  minister,  was  all  the  education  be- 
stowed upon  a  man,  whose  manners  according  to  the 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  THOMAS  LAWRENCE.       279 

authority  of  Georn;e  the  Fourth,  were  those  of  a  high- 
bred gentleman. 

When  he  was  six  years  old,  Lord  and  Lady 
Kenyon  arrived  one  evening  at  the  inn,  after  a 
fatiguing  journey.  The  host,  forgetful  of  the  atten- 
tion ordinarily  paid  to  guests  under  such  circum- 
stances, at  once  entered  the  room,  and  begged  per- 
mission to  introduce  his  son,  whereupon  Thomas 
rushed  in,  and  commenced  a  noisy  canter  round  the 
apartment,  much  to  the  surprise  of  the  travelers, 
However,  if  any  feelings  of  annoyance  were  produced 
by  it,  they  speedily  gave  way  to  those  of  interest, 
as  the  boy  gave  signs  of  his  singular  and  precocious 
talents. 

"Could  you  take  the  portrait  of  that  gentleman'?" 
asked  Lady  Kenyon,  pointing  to  her  husband. 

"That  I  can,  and  very  like,  too,"  answered  the 
boy-artist  as  he  obtained  the  materials  to  fulfill  his 
boast.  In  half  an  hour  he  finished  a  portrait,  which 
greatly  astonished  them,  after  which  he  took  that  of 
the  lady,  with  such  success,  that  it  was  recognized 
twenty- five  years  afterward  by  a  fiiend  of  hers,  on 
account  of  the  likeness.  By  such  means  Lawrence's 
talent  for  recitation  and  skill  in  "drawing  became 
widely  known  ;  and  so  great  was  his  fame  that  a  por 
trait  of  him  was  engraved  by  Sherwin  for  publication. 

He  now  visited  the  picture-galleries  of  the  neigh 
boring  gentry,  and  among  others  that  of  Corsham 
House,  whose  owner,  ]\Ir.  Methven   was  amon";  hia 


280  I'AIiNTERS. 

early  patrons,  While  wandering  through  the  apar^ 
ments,  the  friends  who  had  accompanied  him,  dazzled 
with  tho  splendor  of  the  place,  lost  sight  of  him. 
When  discovered,  he  was  standing,  lost  in  admiration, 
before  a  picture  by  Rubens,  and  on  leaving  it,  ex- 
claimed with  a  sigh  full  of  meaning,  "  Ah  I  I  shall 
never  be  able  to  paint  like  that." 

In  1799  Mr.  Lawrence  and  his  family  removed 
from, Devizes  to  Weymouth,  and  so  unquestionable 
already  was  the  fame  of  his  son  that  in  passing 
through  Oxford  he  Avas  stopped  and  beset  with  ap- 
plications for  portraits.  His  sitters  included  several 
very  eminent  men ;  he  was  patronized  by  the  heads 
of  colleges,  and  his  productions  were  considered  mar- 
velous for  one  so  young  and  uninstructed.  Daines 
Barrington  thus  writes  of  him  in  February,  1780, 
"  This  boy  is  now  nearly  ten  years  and  a  half  old  ;  but 
at  the  age  of  nine,  without  the  most  distant  instruc- 
tion from  any  one,  he  was  capable  of  copying  historic- 
al pictures  in  a  masterly  style  ;  and  also  succeeded 
amazingly  in  compositions  of  his  own,  particularly 
that  of  '  Peter  denying  Christ.'  In  about  seven 
minutes  he  scarcely  ever  failed  of  drawing  a  strong 
likeness  of  any  person  present,  M'hich  had  generally 
much  freedom  and  grace  if  the  subject  permitted. 
He  is  likewise  an  excellent  reader  of  blank  verse,  and 
will  immediately  convince  any  one  that  he  both  un- 
derstands and  feels  the  striking  passages  of  Miltoi! 
and  Sliakspeare." 


BOIHOOD  OF  SIR  THOMAS  LAWRENCE.       281 

In  1782  the  Lawrences  removed  from  Oxford  to 
Bath,  where  a  rapid  increase  of  fame  and  employ- 
ment enabled  Thomas  to  raise  his  price  from  one 
guinea  to  two,  and  in  a  short  time  to  four.  His 
studio  became  the  resort  of  the  noble  and  the  learned  ; 
he  was  welcomed  wherever  he  went ;  Sir  Henry 
Harpur  proposed  to  adopt  him  as  his  son  ;  Prince 
Hoare  saw  something  so  angelic  in  his  face  that  he 
wished  to  paint  him  as  Christ ;  and  the  experienced 
artists  of  the  metropolis  heard  Avith  M'onder  of  a  boy, 
who  was  eclipsing  their  celebrity  and  rivaling  their 
finest  efforts.  Meantime  he  had  procured  access  to 
the  valuable  collection  of  paintings  possessed  by  the 
Hon.  W.  Hamilton,  and  made  some  copies  from 
Raphael  and  others,  for  which  his  father  refused 
three  hundred  guineas.  It  began  to  be  evident  that 
his  genius  was  as  yet  in  its  dawn,  and  that  it 
would  assuredly  shine  with  the  brightness  of  perfect 
day. 

Noble  lords  and  right  reverend  prelates  now  came 
forward  to  encourage,  befriend,  and  patronize  him  , 
while  among  his  lady  patronesses  he  could  count  the 
beautiful  and  accomplished  Duchess  of  Devonshire, 
who  employed  him  herself  and  introduced  him  to  her 
friends.  LaM'rence  worked  diligently,  and  regularly 
completed  three  crayon  portraits  a  week.  His  plan 
was  to  see  four  sitters  a  day  ;  to  draw  half  an  hour 
from  each,  and  as  long  from  memory  after  their 
departure.     Memory,  indeed,  was  one  of  the  great 


882  PAINTERS. 

elements  of  his  success,  and  about  this  period  he  gave 
strong  proofs  of  his  capacity.  Miss  Shakspeare,  whc 
at  that  time  was  considered  the  greatest  beauty  on 
the  stage,  was  performing  at  the  Bath  theatre  ;  and 
Lawrence  was  so  enchanted  with  her  exquisite  love- 
liness, that  he,  next  morning,  drew  a  remarkable 
likeness  of  her  from  recollection.  In  like  manner  he 
furnished  a  portrait  of  Mrs.  Siddons  as  Aspasia,  in 
the  "  Grecian  Daughter,"  which  was  afterward  en- 
graved and  extensively  sold.  Lawrence  himself  had 
been  led,  from  his  habit  of  reciting,  to  feel  some  in- 
clination toward  the  stage  ;  but  his  father  contrived 
that  Bernard  and  other  comedians  should  receive  a 
display  of  his  abilities  with  such  coldness,  that  he  was 
efi'ectually  weaned  of  the  idea.  At  thirteen  Law- 
rence had  become  one  of  the  most  popular  portrait- 
painters  in  the  kingdom  ;  but  this  did  not  delude  his 
mind  or  mislead  his  imagination.  On  the  contrary, 
his  success  spurred  him  on  to  severe  study  and  patient 
labor  ;  he  was  not  dazzled  by  the  glitter  of  early 
fame,  but  rather  found  in  it  the  inducement  to  con- 
tinue his  exertions.  In  his  seventeenth  year  he  began 
to  paint  in  oil,  his  first  subject  being  a  Avhole-length 
figure  of  Christ  bearing  the  cross.  Unfortunately 
this  painting  has  been  lost,  and  its  merits,  as  a  work 
of  art,  are  unknown.  His  second  attempt  in  oil  waa 
a  portrait  of  himself  somewhat  in  the  style  of  Hem- 
brandt. 

The  following  extract  from  a  letter,  which  ho  a 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  THOMAS  LAWRENCE.        283 

(his  time  wrote  to  his  mother,  is,  in  many  respects, 
extremely  interesting : 

"  I  am  now  painting  a  head  of  myself  in  oil,  and  i 
think  it  will  be  a  pleasure  to  my  mother  .to  hear  it 
IS  much  approved  of  Mr.  P.  Iloare  called  on  rae  ; 
when  he  saw  the  crayon-paintings  he  advised  me  to 
pursue  that  style ;  but  after  seeing  my  head,  and 
telling  me  of  a  small  alteration  I  might  make  in  it, 
which  was  only  in  the  mechanical  part,  he  said  the 
head  was  a  very  clever  one,  and  that  to  persuade  me 
to  go  on  in  crayons  he  could  not,  practice  being  the 
only  thing  requisite  for  my  being  a  great  painter. 
He  has  ofi'ered  me  every  service  in  his  power ;  and, 
as  a  proof  of  fulfilling  his  word,  I  have  a  very  valu- 
able receipt  from  him  which  was  made  use  of  by 
Mengs,  the  Spanish  Pk-aphael.  His  politeness  has 
indeed  been  great.  I  shall  now  say,  what  does  not 
proceed  f-om  vanity,  nor  is  it  an  impulse  of  the 
moment,  but  what  from  my  judgment  I  can  warrant. 
Though  Mr.  Prince  Hoare's  studies  have  been  great, 
my  paintings  are  better  than  any  I  have  seen  from 
his  pencil.  To  any  but  my  own  family  I  certainly 
should  not  say  this ;  but,  excepting  Sir  Joshua,  for 
the  painting  of  a  head  I  would  risk  my  reputation 
with  any  painter  in  London." 

So  just  an  estimate  did  he  thus  early  form  of  hia 
powers  as  an  artist,  and  especially  as  a  portrait-painter. 

About  this  time  his  father  refused  the  offer  of  aw 
English  nobleman  to  give  him  the  benefit  of  Roman 


284  PAINTERS. 

masters  ;  his  answier  being  that  his  son's  talents  were 
such  as  to  render  education  unnecessary. 

The  Society  of  Arts  now  voted  Lawrence  their  sil- 
ver pallet  and  five  guineas,  for  his  copy  of  Raphael's 
"  Transfiguration."  It  was  their  custom  to  put  a  gilt 
border  round  it  as  a  mark  of  unusual  distinction  ;  but 
6o  pleased  were  they  with  such  a  performance  from 
so  young  an  artist,  that  they  presented  him  with  the 
pallet  gilt  all  over. 

Every  success  served  only  to  increase  and  stimulate 
his  enthusiasm  for  what  he  called  his  "loved  pur- 
suit ;"  and,  at  length,  his  father  was  forced  to  yield 
to  the  entreaties  to  have  him  sent  to  London.  Ac- 
cordingly, in  1787,  Lawrence  took  up  his  quarters  in 
Tavistock  Street,  opened  an  exhibition  of  his  works, 
and,  on  the  13th  of  September,  became  a  student  at 
the  Royal  Academy.  He  found  some  difficulty  in 
getting  an  introduction  to  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  ;  but, 
at  length,  succeeded  in  obtaining  an  interview,  and  sub- 
mitted his  portrait,  in  oil,  to  the  criticism  of  his  famous 
contemporary.  Sir  Joshua  examined  the  picture  with 
great  care  and  attention,  and  then  turning  to  the  in- 
tensely excited  artist,  said,  "  Well,  now,  I  suppose  you 
think  this  very  fine,  and  this  coloring  very  natural." 

Lawrence's  emotions  at  so  blunt  a  sally  can  be 
more  easily  conceived  than,  described ;  but  Sir  Joshua 
proceeded  to  speak  so  kindly,  and  counsel  him  with 
so  much  candor,  that  he  was  soon  reassured,  and  took 
his  departure  with  a  grateful  heart. 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  THOMAS  LAWRENCE.       283 

The  foundation  of  his  metropolitan  fame  is  said  to 
have  been  laid  by  his  portrait  of  the  charming  Miss 
Farren,  which  was  hung  as  a  pendant  to  Sir  Joshua's 
Mrs.  Billington  as  St.  Cecilia.  At  the  private  ex- 
hibition, Sir  Joshua,  taking  him  by  the  hand,  said, 
"  You  have  already  achieved  a  master-piece,  and  the 
world  will  naturally  look  to  you  to  perfect  that  which 
I  (pointing  to  his  own  picture)  have  endeavored  to 
improve."  Then  surveying  the  young  aspirant's  pro- 
duction, he  added,  with  a  smile,  "  I  am  not  sure  but 
you  have  deserved  the  prize." 

Lawrence's  progress  in  public  favor  was  now  rapid  i 
his  career  successful  beyond  all  precedent.  His  grace- 
ful manners,  engaging  address,  and  pleasing  person, 
contributed  considerably  to  the  eminence  he  attained. 
In  1791,  he  was,  at  the  request  of  George  the  Third, 
elected  a  supplemental  associate  of  the  E-oyal  Acad- 
emy, and  was  admitted  a  member  of  it  four  years  later. 
In  1792  he  succeeded  Reynolds  as  Painter  in  Ordi- 
nary to  His  Majesty.  And,  in  1814,  having  been  re- 
called frorn  Paris  by  the  Prince  Hegent  to  take  the 
portraits  of  the  Allied  Sovereigns,  who  were  in  Lon- 
don, he  was  honored  with  knighthood.  Going  to 
Rome,  in  1819,  he  painted  a  portrait  of  the  Pope,  and 
finished  that  of  Canova,  which  has  by  some  been 
thought  the  finest  emanation  of  his  genius.  On  big 
return  to  England  he  found  that  he  had  the  day  be- 
fore his  arrival,  been  elected  President  of  the  Royal 
Academy,  vacant  by  the  death  of  West.      He  was 


286  PAINTERS. 

made  a  Knight  of  the  French  Legion  of  Honor  a  few 
days  before  his  death,  which  took  place  on  the  7th  of 
January,  1830,  when  he  was  buried  with  great  pomp 
in  St.  Paul's  Cathedral. 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  DAVID  WILKIE. 

There  was  little  in  the  circumstances  of  the  cele- 
brated man's  birth  likely  to  lead  him  into  the  sphere 
which  was  enlarged  by  the  workings  of  his  genius, 
and  adorned  with  the  fruits  of  his  industry.  When 
once  asked  by  a  northern  baronet  whether  his  father, 
mother,  or  any  of  his  relations,  had  a  turn  for  paint- 
ing, or  what  made  him  follow  that  art,  he  replied, 
with  his  usual  quiet  humor :  "  The  truth  is.  Sir  John, 
that  you  made  me  a  painter.  When  you  were  draw- 
ing up  the  statistical  account  of  Scotland,  my  father 
bad  much  correspondence  with  you  respecting  his 
parish,  in  the  course  of  which  you  sent  him  a  colored 
drawing  of  a  soldier  in  the  uniform  of  j'our  Highland 
Fencible  Pwegiment.  I  was  so  delighted  with  the 
sight  that  I  was  constantly  drawing  copies  of  it ;  and 
thus,  insensibly,  I  was  transformed  into  a  painter." 

Wilkie  belonged  to  a  family  that  had  from  time 
immemorial  held  an  honorable  place  in  the  highoi 
class  of  Scottish  yeomanry,  and  whose  members  were 
considered  remarkable  in  their  various  walks  of  life, 


^^^WJ^TK' 


^2 


WILKIE'S  EARLY  STUDIES. 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  DAVID  WILKIE.  289 

for  morality,  economy,  and  independence.  Perhaps 
the  character  of  the  men  may,  m  some  measure  ac- 
count for  the  fact,  that  their  estate,  consisting  of  sixty 
acres,  neither  increased  nor  diminished  in  the  course 
of  the  four  centuries,  during  which,  according  to  au- 
thentic documents,  it  was  in  their  possession.  This 
was  Ratho-Byres,  in  Mid  Lothian,  which  Sir  David's 
grandfather,  a  good  and  wortliy  man,  held  as  tenant 
and  cultivator,  it  having  become  the  property  of  a 
younger  branch  of  the  same  family.  It  is  important 
to  bear  this  in  mind  when  considering  Wilkie's  dis- 
tinguished career,  because  to  almost  every  man  born 
north  of  the  Tweed,  the  feeling  of  being  "  a  represent- 
ative of  the  past,"  brings  with  it  ambitious  desires 
and  longings  for  fame,  not  seldom  productive  of  splen- 
did results.  To  Wilkie,  the  birth-place  of  his  fathers 
was  ever  dear ;  Gogaiburn,  a  small  stream  near  it, 
inspired  him  with  an  enthusiasm  similar  to  that  felt 
by  poets  for  magnificent  rivers  ;  and  a  gray  gable  of 
the  old  house,  in  which  his  grandsire  had  dwelt  and 
practiced  all  the  old-fashioned  virtues,  attracted  his 
finest  sympathies. 

Even  after  he  had  won  renown,  it  was  a  darling 
dream  to  buy  back  the  acres  so  long  held  by  his  race, 
build  a  mansion  where  the  old  wall  stood,  and  adorn 
it  with  pictures  by  hiuiself,  recording  the  ancient 
glory  of  his  country,  toward  which  he  was,  from  first 
to  last,  animated  by  a  spirit  of  ardent  patriotism. 
From  his  boyish  days  he  listened  with  delight  to  sto 
T 


290  PAINTERS, 

ncs  of  the  heroes  oi  poets  of  the  Scottish  soil,  retain 
ed  a  preference  for  his  own  countrymen  throughout 
life,  and  had  so  little  freed  himself  from  his  preju- 
dices at  twenty-eight,  that  he  expresses  the  mortifi- 
cation he  felt  at  his  French  hostess  being  ignorant  of 
the  existence  of  such  a  place  as  his  native  land. 

Wilkie's  father,  after  struggles  as  trying,  if  not  so 
severe,  as  those  by  which  his  son  impressed  his  genius 
on  the  hearts  of  millions,  became  minister  of  Cults 
on  the  banks  of  Eden-water,  in  Fifeshire.  Here  the 
great  painter  was  born  on  the  18th  of  November,  1785, 
His  mother  was  the  daughter  of  a  Mr.  Lister,  an 
exemplary  and  sagacious  man,  who  figures  in  his 
grandson's  famous  picture  of  Pitlessie  Fair  ;  though, 
at  the  time  that  distinction  was  conferred  upon  him, 
he  would  have  been  much  better  pleased  with  a  pros- 
pect of  the  juvenile  artist  figuring  with  credit  in  his 
father's  pulpit. 

But  from  his  infancy  Wilkie  gave  indications,  clear 
and  not  to  be  mistaken,  of  his  turn  for  that  art,  of 
which,  ere  long,  he  became  so  great  a  master.  Tho 
following  is  the  traditionary  account  of  one  of  his 
very  earliest  eflbrts. 

When  he  was  a  very  little  boy,  Lord  Balgonie  one 
day  came  into  the  manse,  as  a  Scottish  parsonage  is 
called.  Mrs.  Wilkie  was  burning  heather  in  the 
chimney,  and  David  taking  out  a  half  consumed  stalk 
from  the  fire,  drew  a  likeness  of  his  lordship's  nose, 
which  is  stated  to  have  been  a  very  formidable  ono 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  DAVID  WILKIE.  291 

on  the  hearth-stone,  and  then  exclaimed,  "  Mother^ 
look  at  Genie's  nose."  His  lordship  was  much 
amused,  and  declared  the  likeness  to  be  most  excel- 
lent. Somewhat  later  he  adorned  the  nursery  walls 
with  amusing  and  fanciful  likenesses  of  his  father's 
parishioners,  which,  more  than  twenty  years  after, 
v/ere,  by  accident,  unfortunately  effaced,  on  the  occa- 
sion of  its  undergoing  some  repairs  for  a  new  incum- 
bent. 

Having  been  previously  taught  to  read  by  his 
mother,  Wilkie  was,  at  the  age  of  seven,  sent  to 
Pitlessie  school,  the  master  of  which  soon  perceived 
that  his  pupil  was  by  no  means  fond  of  the  appointed 
lessons  ;  but  rather  of  drawing  heads  of  the  boys  on 
the  slate  put  into  his  hands  for  a  very  difl^erent  pur- 
pose. However,  he  speedily  acquired  favor  and  rep- 
utation with  the  school-children  who,  of  course,  were 
not  a  little  proud  of  having  their  lineaments  trans- 
ferred to  paper.  For  each  of  the  portraits,  some  of 
which  are  still  preserved,  he  levied  a  marble,  or  some- 
thing of  the  kind,  as  a  reward  for  the  exercise  of  his 
skill.  He  practiced  his  youthful  talents  by  sketching 
the  boys  as  they  stood  in  classes,  and  liked  to  stand 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  watching  them  at  play, 
or  lie  on  the  grass  drawing  their  figures  on  his  slate 
as  they  moved  about  at  their  rural  games.  In  the 
Kc.hool-room  he  was  not  reckoned  an  acute  or  gifted 
boy,  and  out-of-doors  cared  not  for  the  sports  indulged 
in  by  his  hardy  comrades,  many  of  whom,  the  sons  of 


292  PAIISITERS. 

farm-laljorers  and  rural  tradesmen,  would,  in  after* 
life,  find  their  honest  hearts  swell  with  pride  at  the 
eminence  attained  by  hini  who  had,  in  boyhood,  given 
them  tlie  first  idea  of  the  shape  of  their  features  tan- 
ned with  the  sun,  and  of  their  round  heads  closely 
shorn  in  some  of  the  village  workshops  with  shears 
borrowed  from  the  nearest  shepherd. 

In  1797  Wilkie  was  removed  to  the  grammar- 
school  of  Kettle,  the  master  of  which.  Dr.  Strachan, 
pronounced  him  the  most  singular  scholar  he  had 
ever  attempted  to  teach.  He  himself  has  been  heard 
to  declare  that  he  could  draw  before  he  could  read, 
and  paint  before  he  could  spell ;  and  it  appears  that 
throughout  his  school-days  he  was  always  fortunately 
as  it  turned  out,  readier  to  devote  himself  to  the  lat- 
ter pursuits.  Though  a  quiet,  grave-looking  boy,  he' 
had  ever  a  keen  eye  to  any  thing  in  the  shape  of 
mischief;  and  all  his  sketches,  whether  of  men,  or 
the  inferior  animals,  had  a  tendency  toward  the  pecu- 
liar style  which  made  his  name  immortal. 

Ever  fond  of  fun  and  frolic,  one  of  his  favorite 
amusements  was  climbing  on  to  the  back  of  an  un- 
saddled horse,  and  riding  at  full  speed.  This  nearly 
cost  him  his  life  ;  for  having,  when  about  twelve 
years  old,  fallen,  and  being  dragged  for  some  distance, 
he  was  picked  up  motionless  and  insensible.  By  this 
accident  he  was  quite  cured  of  the  propensity,  and, 
indeed,  rendered  a  timid  horseman  for  life.  lie  in- 
nerited  frora  his  father  something  of  a  mechanical 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  DAVID  WILKIE.  293 

turn  of  mind,  and  interested  himself  in  the  construe 
tion  of  miniature  mills  and  other  machines.  He  fre- 
quented the  workshops  of  shoemakers,  and  seemed 
disposed  to  learir  their  craft ;  watched  with  interest 
the  weaver's  loom ;  and  was  dexterous  in  handling 
the  forge-hammer  of  the  village  smithy.  That  su»h 
rough  training  was  of  use  to  him  in  many  difierent 
ways,  it  is  impossible  to  doubt. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  Wilkie  seems  to  have 
been  ready  for  any  other  occupation  rather  than  the  la- 
borious studies  necessary  to  have  qualified  him  for  the 
church  or  bar — the  two  professions  which,  his  biog- 
rapher tells  us,  Avere  at  that  period  most  frequently 
resorted  to  by  those  in  his  circumstances.  To  the 
army  likewise  they  often  betook  themselves  ;  and 
sometimes  gained  distinction  by  their  courage  and 
perseverance.  But  though  Wilkie,  when  at  Kettle, 
had  seen  soldiers,  and  indeed  made  an  expedition  to 
Kirkaldy,  to  delight  his  eyes  with  a  review,  the  sight 
of  which,  it  appears,  greatly  interested  him,  he  was 
not  thereby  inspired  with  that  love  of  arms  which 
makes  a  youth  thirst  for  military  glory.  Its  chief 
captivation  and  advantage  to  him  seem  to  have 
been  in  furnishing  a  subject  for  the  exercise  of  his 
pencil.  He  sketched  the  whole  scene  in  a  book, 
which  contains  about  twenty  other  drawings,  long 
regarded  by  him  with  natural  complacency  ;  though, 
it  is  said,  exhibiting  little  of  that  wonderful  genius 
which   afterward   brought    its    possessor  such  v/ell- 


U94  PAINTERS. 

merited  fame.  Yet  his  talents  had  already  been  dis- 
played in  a  manner  that  fdled  strangers  with  surprise, 
as  the  following  incident,  narrated  by  one  who  felt  it, 
proves  : 

"  I  once  dined,"  says  the  narrator,  "  at  the  Manse 
of  Auchtermuchty,  where  his  uncle,  Mr.  Lister,  was 
minister,  and  was  much  struck  with  the  likenesses  of 
his  fine  young  family,  which  were  arranged  on  the 
wall.  The  minister  asked  me  if  I  thought  them 
good  portraits,  and  I  stated  I  thought  them  the  best 
of  the  kind  I  had  ever  seen.  Upon  this  he  told  me 
they  were  done  by  a  youthful  nephew  of  his  ;  and  T 
remarked  that  he  would  be  heard  of  with  honor  at  no 
distant  period."  Still  the  artist  was  a  school-boy 
whose  parents  had  not  the  slightest  wish  to  see,  him 
embark  his  young  fortunes  in  a  profession  where 
excellence  is  generally  immortality,  but  mediocrity 
hardly  less  than  humiliation.  It  was,  therefore,  with 
little  prospect  of  being  able  to  make  good  the  fair 
promise  of  his  hopeful  youth,  that  he  left  the  gram- 
mar-school of  Kettle,  to  be  entered  at  the  academy 
of  Cupar,  at  which  seminary  he  remained  about  a 
year,  and  added  considerably  to  his  knowledge. 

It  is  related  that  the  President  of  the  Roman 
Academy,  when  conducting  the  celebrated  Allan 
Ramsay  over  the  School  of  Art,  in  order  that  the 
latter  might  examine  the  drawings  of  the  students 
therein  displayed,  hinted,  with  more  pride  than  pru- 
dence, that  England  could  produce  nothing  to  com- 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  DAVID  WILKIE.  295 

pare  with  them.  Karasay's  spirit  rose  indignantly  at 
the  hazardous  insinuatiou  ;  and  he  replied,  with  be- 
coming warmth,  "  Well,  sir,  stop  till  I  send  for  my 
pupil,  Davie  Martin,  and  I  will  show  you  how  we 
draw  in  England."  On  the  arrival  of  the  latter  at 
Rome,  Ramsay  arranged  the  drawings  in  proper  or- 
der, and  invited  the  President  and  scholars  to  inspect 
and  judge  of  them.  "The  Italians,"  he  says,  with 
patriotic  pride,  "  v/ere  confounded  and  overcome,  and 
British  skill  triumphant." 

This  "  Davie  Martin"  being  the  brother  of,  and 
livin"-  with,  a  neighboring  clergyman,  exercised  no 
•nconslderable  influence  on  Wilkie's  ultimate  choice 
of  a  profession.  Indeed  he  may  be  said  to  have 
changed  his  ardent  wish  to  be  a  great  painter  into 
a  fixed  and  firm  resolution.  At  all  events,  it  is  cer- 
tain, that  the  latter  became  dull  and  restless  unless 
he  had  a  pencil  in  his  hand  and  an  opportunity  of 
using  it.  Nor  was  he  fastidious  about  a  subject. 
Any  ruined  cottage,  or  ragged  mendicant,  or  aged 
inhabitant  of  the  place,  was  sufficient  ;  and,  uncon- 
Bcioasly  to  himself  perhaps,  supplied  something  to- 
ward those  charming  pictures  that  were,  before  many 
years,  to  exhibit  the  manners,  customs,  and  charac 
teristics  of  his  country  in  such  true  and  life-like  colors. 
When  he  looked  at  the  pictures  in  the  great  houses 
of  the  district,  the  residences  of  provincial  magnates, 
he  marveled  how  such  effects  could  be  produced,  but 
Boon  perceived  that  it  was  entirely  by  study  and  per- 


296  PAINTERS. 

severance.  Forty  years  later,  he  wrote,  no  doubt 
with  perfect  justice,  that  ''-  his  native  district  could 
scarcely  supply  a  work  of  art  by  which  the  eye  or  the 
taste  could  either  be  excited  or  depressed  ;"  and  that 
"  the  single  element  in  all  its  progressive  movements 
was  persevering  industry."  Therein,  doubtless,  he 
was  right.  This  "  persevering  industry"  is  the  true 
element  of  nearly  all  success  in  life. 

The  time  had  now  arrived  when  Wilkie's  aspiring 
spirit  could  no  longer  brook  the  thought  of  being 
confined  within  the  parish  of  Cults.  He  panted  for 
new  scenes  and  a  larger  world,  in  which  to  pursue 
his  studies.  So  with  a  book  full  of  sketches  from 
nature,  and  a  heart  irrevocably  pledged  to  art,  he 
resolved  to  trust  himself  in  the  northern  metropolis, 
where,  he  was  assured  by  his  friend  and  adviser  Mar- 
tin, that  he  would  not  seek  instruction  in  vain.  It 
was  in  no  adventurous  spirit,  but  with  that  "  hrm 
resolve,"  of  which  he  often  talked,  and  by  which  he 
hoped  to  work  out  the  objects  he  believed  himself 
capable  of  accomplishing,  that  this  greater,  or,  at  least, 
more  various  and  graceful  Hogarth,  left  the  scenes 
he  had  trod  from  childhood  to  betake  himself  to  the 
romantic  city  of  Edinburgh. 

His  father,  as  was  natural,  looked  coldly  and  doubt- 
fully on  his  son's  choice  of  a  pi'ofession,  deeming  it 
the  height  of  imprudence  to  ffo  so  far  out  of  his  way 
to  seek  that  respectable  position  which  seemed  to  be 
before  him,  if  he  would  only  follow  the  sage  advice 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  DAVID  WILKIE.  29: 

of  his  grandfather,  whose  earnest  wish  was  to  see  one 
of  his  daughter's  sous  distinguish  himself  in  a  pulpit; 
but  his  mother,  who  better  understood  the  young 
aspirant,  sympathized  with  his  views,  and  encouraged 
him  to  persevere  in  his  chosen  coui'se. 

On  arriving  in  Edinburgh,  in  November,  1799, 
Wilkie,  after  some  difficulty,  and  with  the  aid  of 
Lord  Levcn,  was  admitted  to  the  Trustees'  Academy, 
where  he  set  himself  earnestly  and  gravely  to  his 
task,  and  by  regularity  and  diligence  made  such  pro- 
gress, that  it  has  been  described  as  almost  marvelous. 
It  is  related  that  he  was  always  the  first  on  the  stairs 
leading  to  the  Academy,  and  the  last  to  depart, 
anxious  not  to  lose  a  moment  of  the  hours  allowed 
for  drawing  and  study.  Slow  of  speech,  with  a 
country  air,  and  bashful  of  manners,  he  carad  little 
for  such  trifles  as  pleased  and  excited  the  other  stu- 
dents, but  resolutely  applied  himself  to  his  work,  and 
for  his  pains  was  pelted  with  small  pills  of  soft  bread. 
At  first  he  showed  very  little  knowledge  of  the  rules 
of  art,  but  surpassed  all  his  companions  in  the  appre- 
hension of  the  character  of  the  subject  upon  which 
he  was  engaged.  After  leaving  the  Academy,  ho 
either  repaired  to  his  lodgings  to  continue  his  studies, 
or  to  the  fairs  and  markets  frequented  by  the  country 
people,  to  make  sketches  of  such  characters  as  might 
hereafter  be  worked  into  brilliant  pictures.  He  was 
peculiarly  sensible  of  the  charms  of  music,  and  used 
to  soothe  his  cares  wi.h  a  tune  on  the  fiddle,  whose 


298  PAINTERS. 

Bounds  ever  afibrded  him  pleasure,  and  were  often 
used  to  put  the  husbandman,  the  shepherd,  or  the 
old  beggarman,  into  the  particular  humor  iii  which 
he  wished  them  to  appear  to  suit  the  purposes  of  his 
art.  During  his  residence  in  Edinburgh  he  allowed 
no  pursuits  whatever  to  distract  his  attention  from 
that  of  painting.  He  slowly,  silently,  and  studiously, 
stored  his  mind  and  memory  with  images  of  men  and 
things ;  and  is  thought  to  have  had  distant,  but  en- 
chanting and  encouraging  visions  of  that  beautiful 
and  interesting  series  of  pictures,  which  he  afterward 
produced  and  displayed  to  the  gaze  of  an  admiring 
public.  At  a  competition  in  the  Academy,  he  was 
unexpectedly  unsuccessful  with  a  painting  from  a 
subject  in  "  Macbeth ;"  but  endured  the  disappoint- 
ment with  the  characteristic  tranquillity,  which  often 
in  later  days  sustained  him  in  more  severe  trials. 

On  leaving  the  Trustees'  Academy  in  1804,  with 
the  good  wishes  of  all,  Wilkie  returned  to  Cults. 
John  Graham,  the  master  of  the  Academy,  at  the 
Bame  time  wrote  to  his  father,  bestowing  on  him  the 
high  and  prophetic  praise,  that  "the  more  delicacy 
was  required  in  the  execution  of  a  subject,  the  more 
successful  would  he  be."  Still  this  was  a  critical 
period  for  the  great  painter's  fortunes,  and  the  dangei 
of  his  immense  ability  proving  an  immense  misfor- 
tune was  by  no  means  small.  How  he  was  to  get 
into  the  world  of  art  was  a  question  of  the  most 
Berious  kind,  and  one  that  dismayed  and  perplexed 


BOyilOOD  OF  SIR  DAVID  WILKIE.  iiO'J 

his  anxious  father,  whose  imagination,,  in  all  proba- 
bility, very  much  magnified  the  difficulty,  as  often 
happens  in  similar  circumstances. 

However,  it  was  soon  solved  by  a  perseverance  not 
to  be  conquered,  and  a  love  of  art  v/hich  to  the  las 
was  Wilkie's  solace  in  all  trials.  He  had  already 
made  some  progress  in  portrait-painting.  Touched 
by  the  eminence  to  which  it  had  exalted  his  country- 
man Fwaeburn,  his  imagination  conjured  up  visions 
of  its  achieving  a  similar  success  for  him ;  and  he 
turned  his  attention  earnestly  to  the  subject.  He 
speedily  exhausted  the  sitters  of  Cults  and  Cupar, 
then  went  to  St.  Andrews,  also  in  his  native  county, 
and  afterward  to  Aberdeen,  in  search  of  occupation 
for  his  easel,  but  without  meeting  with  any  such  en- 
couragement as  to  tempt  further  efforts.  Conscious, 
however,  of  great  talents,  and  prompted  by  an  en- 
thusiastic but  definite  ambition,  he  could  make  cir- 
cumstances conform  to  the  end  he  desired  to  attain, 
and  soon  gave  proofs  of  his  true  genius  in  the  original 
picture  of  the  "  Village  Politicians,"  now  so  universal- 
ly and  favorably  known.  He  also  executed  a  small 
painting  from  his  favorite  author,  Allan  Pvamsay, 
and  another  from  the  tragedy  of  "  Douglas,"  both  of 
which  were  sold  for  considerable  sums.  After  these 
came,  among  other  productions,  "Pitlessie  Fair,"  into 
which  he  introduced  about  an  hundred  and  forty 
figures,  mostly  likenesses  of  the  parish  notables,  which 
he  had  taken  at  church  during  service.     The  laltei 


300  PAINTERS. 

fact  connected  with  the  matter  was  deemed  hardly 
decorous,  and  raised  loud  complaints.  The  painting 
was  purchased  by  Mr.  Kinnear  of  Kinioch,  and  fat 
surpassed  in  merit  any  picture  of  the  kind  that  had, 
up  to  that  period,  been  produced  in  Scotland.  The 
people  of  Fifeshire  began  to  have  some  faint  notion 
that  their  county  contained  a  man  capable  of  winning 
renown  and  adding  fresh  laurels  to  its  fame.  Gray- 
headed  men  sagely  and  mysteriously  observed  that 
there  was  something  remarkable  about  the  minister's 
son  of  Cults ;  and  aged  women  predicted  that  as 
poetry  had  possessed  her  Sir  David  Lindsay,  so  paint- 
ing should  ere  long  have  her  Sir  David  Wilkie. 

But  he  who  was  attracting  an  attention  that  might 
.  have  turned  the  head  of  many  at  his  age,  remained 
modest,  calm,  and  imperturbable.  In  fact,  he  con- 
sidered it  time  to  carry  his  talents  where  they  might 
be  more  profitably  and  advantageously  exercised ;  and, 
after  weighing  the  matter,  determined  to  set  off  to 
London,  for  the  purpose  of  entering  himself  as  a 
student  at  the  Pvoyal  Academy.  Having  collect- 
ed his  sketches,  drawings,  and  pictures,  and  made 
due  preparation,  he  sailed  from  Leith  on  the  20  th 
of  May,  1805,  when  nineteen  years  and  six  months 
old. 

Having  arrived  in  London,  his  first  care  was  to 
find  a  suitable  place  for  exhibiting  his  paintings. 
Having  had  two  or  three  of  thern  put  in  a  window 
at  Charing  Cross,  they  soon  attracted  gazers,  and 


liOYHOOD  OF  SIR  DAVID  WILKIE.  301 

Ihe  "Village  E-ecruit"  was  quickly  disposed  of.  At 
the  Hoyal  Academy  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  his 
fellow-students,  Haydon  and  Jackson.  The  latter 
introduced  him  to  Lord  Mulgrave,  as  well  as  to  Sir 
George  Beaumont,  in  whom  he  found  a  true  and  con- 
stant friend. 

The  fame  of  the  tall,  light-haired  Scot  began  to 
creep  abroad ;  his  works  excited  great  and  deserved 
attention,  and  called  forth  high  praise.  And  when, 
in  1806,  his  picture  of  the  "Village  Politicians"  was 
exhibited  at  the  Royal  Academy,  it  was  hailed  with 
an  enthusiastic  burst  of  applause.  His  native  country, 
justly  proud  of  his  success,  caught  up  and  echoed 
the  metropolitan  praise ;  and  he  himself,  though 
wisely  silent  in  regard  to  its  acknowledged  merits 
amid  the  praises  that  were  heaped  upon  it  by  the 
press  and  by  the  people,  who  daily  crowded  to  view 
the  performance,  could  not  help  writing  to  his  father 
in  accents  of  high  hope.  "  My  ambition,"  he  said, 
"  has  got  beyond  all  bounds,  and  I  have  the  vanity 
to  hope  that  Scotland  will  one  day  be  proud  to  boast 
of  David  Wilkie."  Assuredly  he  indulged  in  no 
vain  or  delusive  expectation  ;  nor  was  it  long  ere  he 
gave  a  further  proof  of  his  great  and  uncommon 
powers.  In  the  very  next  year  the  "  Blind  Fiddler" 
sustained  and  established  the  reputation  of  "  this 
extraordinary  young  artist,"  as  he  was  now  called 
by  the  critics.  Commissions  flowed  uj)on  him,  his 
success  was  beyond  all  question ;  and  when  only  in 


302  PAINTERS. 

his  Iwenty-sixlh  year,  he  was,  to  the  dehght  of  al'; 
real  lovers  of  art,  elected  a  Royal  Academician. 

In  1826  he  left  England  for  Italy,  and  passed 
some  time  in  studying  the  old  masters.  In  Spain 
he  caught  the  idea  of  his  "  Defense  of  Saragossa," 
the  style  of  which  w^as  strikingly  difierent  from  hif 
former  productions,  but  it  was,  nevertheless,  one  of 
his  finest  efibrts.  The  surprise  and  doubt  which  it  at 
first  raised  changed  into  well-merited  admiration  ai 
the  great  fact  became  evident,  that  in  attempting  a 
new  style  the  mighty  painter  had  achieved  great  and 
signal  success. 

Having  been  limner  to  the  King  for  Scotland,  he 
was,  on  the  death  of  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  in  1830, 
selected  by  George  the  Fourth  as  Painter  in  Ordi- 
nary to  His  Majesty ;  an  office  of  whose  dignity  he 
had  a  high  opinion,  and  in  which  he  was  continued 
by  William  the  Fourth.  The  latter,  in  1836,  Avas 
graciously  pleased  to  confer  upon  him  the  honor  of 
knighthood  ;  a  distinction  with  which  he  was  grati- 
fied, but  by  no  means  unduly  elated. 

Wilkie  had  for  a  long  time  been  threatened  with 
bad  health,  and  in  the  end  became  its  victim.  In 
vain  had  he  betaken  himself  to  foreign  lands  and 
sunny  climes.  In  vain  did  he  go  forth  to  look  upon 
the  old  ruined  glories  of  the  splendid  East.  In  re- 
turning home  he  expired  at  sea,  without  a  struggle. 
on  the  1st  of  June,  iSll,  in  the  fifty-sixth  year  of 
his  liie. 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  DAVID  WILKIE.  301 

On  the  evening  of  that  day  the  engines  of  tho 
''  Oriental"  steam-ship  were  stopped,  and  the  huge 
vessel  stayed  upon  her  course.  The  sky  was  clear 
and  the  ocean  calm  :  the  sublime  service  enjoined  by 
the  Church  was  read  ;  and,  in  the  midst  of  it,  his 
mortal  remains  v/ere  committed,  to  the  waters  of  the 
deep. 

When  the  sad  news  of  his  death  reached  England, 
that  grief  fell  upon  the  public  which  might  well  be 
caused  by  the  loss  cf  one  to  whom  it  had  owed  so 
much  and  such  real  gratification  ;  whom  an  "  ex- 
ruisite  feeling  of  nature"  had  enabled  to  touch  the 
hearts  of  all  ranks ;  whom  early  training  and  a  fine 
perception  of  character  had  fitted,  above  all  others, 
to  be  the  pamter  of  the  people  ;  and  who,  when  he 
vpas  in  possession  of  well-earned  fame  and  honors, 
when  some  of  his  most  cherished  dreams  were  splen- 
didly realized,  continued  the  same  modest,  unassum- 
ing individual,  as  he  had  been  when  his  pencil  traced 
grotesque  figures  on  the  walls  of  some  Fifeshire  manse, 
or  his  Scotch  accent  and  eyes  bright  with  intelligence 
amused  and  charmed  the  students  at  the  Koyal 
Academy- 


CHAPTER  %V 
Sculptors. 


BOYHOOD  OF  CANOVA. 

The  little  village  of  Possagno,  witliin  the  ternto* 
ties  of  the  once  wealthy,  powerful,  and  high-flying 
Republic  of  Venice,  enjoys  the  distinguished  honor  oi 
having  been  the  birth-place  of  this  immortal  sculptor, 
who  rivaled  the  illustrious  artists  of  Greece,  and  in- 
spired fresh  life  into  the  expiring  arts  of  Pv-ome.  It 
is  situated  in  a  remote  but  pleasant  district  of  Italy, 
amid  the  recesses  of  the  Venetian  hills  ;  and  in  the 
middle  of  last  century  consisted  of  a  number  of  strag- 
gling, mud-built  cottages.  In  one  of  these  humble 
cabins  at  that  period  dwelt  Pisano,  the  grandfather 
of  Canova,  stone-cutter  of  the  locality,  as  his  fathers 
had  been  for  generations.  The  latter  circumstance, 
with  his  well-known  character  for  pleasantry  and 
good-humor,  enabled  him  to  exercise  a  degree  of  as- 
cendency over  the  villagers,  while  his  skill  and  dili- 
gence recommended  him  to  the  employment,  favor, 
and  even  friendly  regard,  of  hi«  superiors  in  wealth 


BOYHOOD  OF  CANOVA.  306 

and  station.  He  possessed  some  knowledge  of  archi- 
tecture, and  displayed  considerable  taste  and  skill  in 
executing  ornamental  works  in  stucco  and  marble, 
some  specimens  of  which  are  still  to  be  seen  in  the 
neighboring  churches. 

Antonio  Canova  was  born  on  the  1st  of  November, 
1757.  His  father  Pietro,  also  a  stone-cutter,  died 
when  the  future  sculptor  was  three  years  old,  and  his 
mother  marrying  again  a  few  months  after,  left  her 
son  to  be  brought  up  by  the  sagacious  Pisano.  The 
boy  being,  like  many  destined  to  eminence,  of  feeble 
health  and  delicate  constitution,  became  the  object  of 
the  most  aflectionate  care  to  his  grandmother,  who 
watched  over  him  with  the  most  tender  solicitude, 
and  told  him  the  charming  tales,  and  sang  to  him  the 
rich  ballads,  of  his  native  hills.  These  inspired  him 
with  a  love  of  poetry,  of  which  he  afterward  felt  and 
acknowledged  the  value  ;  and  no  doubt  the  images 
and  forms  they  raised  in  his  imagination  contributed 
materially  to  the  excellence  which  characterizes  this 
class  of  his  works,  embodying  Italian  life  and  beauty, 
the  best  and  most  lasting  memorials  of  the  genius  that 
was  applauded,  v/hilo  he  was  but  twenty-five,  for  hav- 
ing produced  "  one  of  the  most  perfect  works  which 
Rome  had  beheld  for  ages."  The  venerable  matron 
lived  to  see  the  object  of  her  vigilance  prove  himself 
worthy  of  it,  and  he  showed  his  grateful  sense  of  her 
more  than  maternal  kindness  by  sculpturing  a  bust 
of  her  in  the  costume  of  her  native  province,  and  keep 

'u' 


300  SCULPTORS. 

iiig  it  in  his  apartments  to  mark  his  appreciation  ot 
the  services  she  had  rendered  him. 

When  her  incessant  attention  became  less  neces- 
sary, her  httle  charge  fell  more  under  the  auspices  of 
Pisano,  who,  regarding  him  with  no  small  pride  as 
his  destined  successor  in  the  office  of  hereditary  village 
mason,  was  resolved  that  he  should  not,  for  want  of 
instruction,  be  deficient  in  the  accomplishments  re- 
quisite to  fill  the  post  with  credit  and  distinction.  Al- 
most as  soon,  therefore,  as  Antonio  could  hold  a  pen- 
cil, he  was  initiated  into  the  principles  of  drawing. 
Somewhat  later  he  commenced  modeling  in  clay,  and 
then  learned  to  fashion  the  larger  fragments  of  marble 
cuttings  into  ornaments  of  various  descriptions.  Of 
these  almost  infantine  efforts  in  sculpture,  two  small 
marble  shrines,  one  of  which  is  inlaid  with  colored 
stones,  are  still  preserved. 

While  Antonio  thus  passed  his  years  of  childhood 
in  studious  occupation,  working  in  his  grandfather's 
shop,  or  hstening  to  the  fascinating  lore  of  his  grand- 
mother, the  village  boys,  whose  sports  and  pastimes 
had  not  the  slightest  attraction  for  him,  nettled  at  hia 
indifference,  styled  him  the  "sullen  Tonin,"  the  famil- 
iar denominative  for  Antonio,  commonly  used  in  the 
Venetian  State.  But  when  he  had  -won  European 
fame,  and  had  been  elevated  to  high  rank,  and  loaded 
v.'ith  countless  honors,  the  studio  still  continued  tho 
theatre  of  his  ambition  and  the  scene  of  his  triumphs. 
He  cared  little  for  other  matters. 


BOYHOOD  OF  CANOVa.  301 

After  the  completion  of  his  ninth  year,  Canova  ap- 
pears to  have  wrought  with  his  grandfather,  no  longer 
altogether  for  amusement,  but  as  an  assistant  in  those 
labors  necessary  for  the  maintenance  of  the  little  house- 
hold. Still  the  feeble  frame  of  the  boy  so  nearly  dis- 
qualified him  for  such  a  trade,  that  Pisano,  probably 
seeing  that  his  wish  could  not  be  fulfilled,  indulged 
him  in  modeling  floM'ers,  drawing  animals,  and  other 
matters  congenial  to  his  fine  taste  and  bright  fancy. 

At  the  age  of  twelve  he  had  the  good  fortune  to 
attract  the  notice,  and  secure  the  patronage,  of  the 
noble  Venetian  family  of  the  Falieri,  who  had  a  villa 
in  the  neighborhood,  to  which  they  were  in  the  habit 
of  resorting  periodically  to  enjoy  the  beautiful  scenery 
and  refreshing  breezes  that  its  Alpine  situation  af- 
forded. Signer  Faliero  entertained  a  sincere  respect 
for  the  old  stone-cutter,  and  no  season  passed  without 
several  visits  from  the  latter  to  the  Villa  d'Asolo. 

Thus  young  Canova  was  first  introduced  to  the 
notice  of  the  potent  senator,  with  whose  second  sou 
he  immediately  formed  a  boyish  friendship,  which 
was  proof  against  the  influence  of  time  and  the  dis 
tinctions  of  rank. 

An  interesting  anecdote  is  told  of  the  means  by 
which  he  impressed  his  great  powers  on  the  convic- 
tion of  the  Falieri.  On  the  occasion  of  a  splendid 
banquet,  when  the  feast  was  set  forth  and  the  guesta 
assembled,  the  domestics  suddenly  discovered,  to  theii 
horror  and  confusion,  that  a  crowning  ornament  waq 


308  SCULPTORS. 

wanting  to  render  the  dessert  complete.  In  this  grave 
emergency  old  Pisano's  aid  was  invoked,  and  he  rack- 
ed his  brain  to  invent  something  suitable,  but  to  no 
irjrpose.  The  genius  of  his  grandson,  however  sug- 
g.^sted  a  remedy,  and  calling  for  butter,  he  modeled 
a  lion  with  such  surpassing  skill  and  eflect-.  that  it 
i;xcited  the  wonder  and  admiration  of  the  guests. 
They  were  filled  with  curiosity  to  see  the  marvelous 
boy  who,  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  had  made  so 
clever,  opportune,  and  fortunate  an  efibrt,  and,  ac- 
cordingly, his  presence  was  demanded.  With  blush- 
ing cheeks  and  hesitating  step,  the  incipient  artist 
came  to  receive  the  congratulations  of  the  bright  and 
gorgeous  company,  and  the  thanks  of  the  kind  and 
opulent  family,  whose  head  was  not  slow  to  recog- 
nize and  reward  this  timely  service.  He  perceived 
that  the  boy  was  possessed  of  rare  genius  ;  and,  re- 
solving to  give  him  encouragement  and  opportunity 
to  develop  it  with  advantage,  he  had  him  placed 
under  Toretto  the  elder,  one  of  the  most  skillful 
Venetian  sculptors,  who  had  just  come  to  reside  in 
the  neighborhood.  Ever  arduous  in  his  pursuits, 
Canova  employed  himself  perseveringly  under  his 
new  instructor.  Many  of  his  drawings  and  models 
still  exist  in  the  Falieri  family,  as  well  as  in  the  col- 
lections of  other  people  ;  and  among  them  two  draw- 
ings in  chalk,  one  representing  Venus,  the  other  a 
Bacchus,  executed  only  a  few  days  after  their  author 
had  been  placed  with  Toretto,  but  remarkable  foj 


VOUNG  CANOVA'S  SKILL  L\  M(jDELL\G. 


BOYHOOD  OF  CANOVA.  JH 

their  boldness  of  style  and  correctness  of  outline. 
During  leisure  hours  he  produced  some  works,  which 
raised  the  hopes  of  his  friends,  and  led  them  to  an- 
ticipate for  him  great  success.  The  most  memora- 
"ble  of  these  were  the  models  in  clay  of  two  angels, 
(;:c»:cuted  without  assistance  from  any  other  figures, 
and  therefore  original  ellbrts  of  his  creative  mind. 
Having  been  produced  daring  a  brief  absence  of  To- 
retto,  and  hastily  finished,  they  were  placed  in  a  con- 
spicuous position  in  the  workshop  to  await  his  experi- 
enced judgment.  "When  the  sculptor's  eyes  caught 
the  productions  of  his  pupil's  genius,  he  is  said  to 
have  been  entranced,  and  to  have  exclaimed,  "  This 
is,  indeed,  a  most  astonishing  work."  It  was  with 
no  small  difficulty  that  he  could  be  persuaded  of 
their  being  in  reality  the  result  of  a  boy's  labors. 

Soon  after  this  Canova  made  his  first  essay  to 
represent  the  human  form  in  marble,  in  hours  not 
devoted  to-  the  more  mechanical  duties  of  his  pro- 
fession, and  he  received  the  best  mark  of  Toretto's 
esteem  in  being  adopted  as  a  son,  with  permission  to 
bear  the  name — a  privilege  that  he  never  took  ad- 
vantage of 

Ilis  engagement  with  Toretto,  during  which  he 
had  made  no  inconsiderable  progress,  was  termin- 
ated by  the  removal  of  the  latter  ;  and  all  hope  of 
Toretto's  aid  proving  of  avail  being  abruptly  cut  off 
by  his  death,  there  appeared  imminent  danger  of 
the  aspiring  sculptor,  having  to  retire  to  his  grand 


312  SCULPTORS. 

father's  workshop,  and  endure  the  misery  of  his  tal- 
ents being  buried  in  the  obscurity  of  his  native  vil- 
lage. It  was,  therefore,  with  a  delight  of  no  ordi- 
nary kind  that  he  received  an  invitation  from  hia 
noble  patron  to  repair  to  Venice,  where  he  joyfully 
went  in  his  fifteenth  year. 

It  would  be  amusing  to  specvdate  on  the  emotions 
v/ith  which  the  youth,  irom  a  village  in  the  recesses 
of  the  hills,  must  have  contemplated  the  beautiful 
city,  Avith  its  E.ialto  and  numerous  other  bridges,  its 
magnificent  piazza  of  St.  Mark's,  and  its  elegant 
palaces,  adorned  with  marble  fronts  and  Vvith  pillars 
exhibiting  the  various  orders  of  architecture,  or  those 
lustrous  chambers  hung  Avith  gilding  and  tapestry, 
in  which  the  privileged  commercial  aristocracy  main- 
tained a  splendor  that  threw  the  old  rural  nobility 
into  the  shade. 

Canova  was  forthwith  introduced  to  the  Academy 
of  Fine  Arts,  whose  character  he  subsequently  did  so 
much  to  raise,  and  had  a  residence  in  the  palace  of 
his  patron.  These  attentions,  far  from  spoiling  him, 
seem  only  to  have  stimulated  his  exertions;  he  ap- 
plied himself  to  his  beloved  art  with  exemplary  dili- 
gence, studied  at  all  hours,  and  exercised  his  poweis 
in  every  way  likely  to  lead  to  their  growth  and  im- 
provement. The  gallery  of  the  palace,  at  that  time 
belonging  to  the  Farsetti,  divided  his  attention  with 
the  Academy.  This  noble  institution  Avas  thrown 
open  to  youths  desirous  of  studying  the  fine  arts , 


BOYHOOD  OF  CANOVA.  313 

ind  they  were,  without  expense,  supplied  with  every 
requisite  for  study,  and  with  the  assistance  of  an  able 
director.  Canova's  regularity  and  industry  attracted 
the  attention  of  the  magnificent  owner,  alike  distin- 
guished by  knowledge  of  literature  and  taste  in  art, 
for  whom  he  sculptured  in  marble  tAvo  baskets  filled 
with  diflerent  fruit  and  flowers.  They  still  remain, 
though  somewhat  injured,  on  the  balustrade  of  the 
grand  stair  leading  to  the  gallery,  whose  treasures  are 
unfortunately  dispersed. 

While  studying  here,  he  formed  a  strong  and  fan- 
ciful attachment,  which  gave  a  color  to  his  life,  and 
aided  in  the  formation  of  some  of  his  finest  concep- 
tions. One  day  he  observed  a  mild,  beautiful,  delicate, 
graceful-looking  female  enter  the  gallery,  attended  by 
a  friend,  who  daily  departing  returned  before  the  hour 
of  closing,  leaving  the  former  to  employ  herself  in 
studies,  which  chiefly  consisted  in  drawing  from  an- 
tique heads.  His  eye  was  arrested,  as  the  eye  of  genius 
only  can  be,  and  his  heart  touched  with  such  sym- 
pathetic sensations  as  the  pure  alone  can  feel.  For 
some  time  he  worshiped  her  at  a  distance,  as  an  In- 
dian does  a  star.  Accident  first  placed  the  youthful 
pair  near  each  other,  and  henceforth  Canova  was  ir- 
resistibly attracted  to  select  such  models  as  brought 
him  nearest  the  fair  unknown.  Once,  v/hile  leaning 
on  the  shoulder  of  her  attendant,  she  praised  his  work 
in  accents  that  were  like  angelic  music  to  his  ear, 
and  long  treasurtd  up  in  the  most  consecrated  spot 


314  SCULPTORb. 

of  his  memory.  At  length  this  object  of  his  mute 
adoration  was  absent,  and  the  young  and  aspiring 
sculptor  was  inconsolable.  Ere  long,  however,  the 
attendant  appeared,  but  alone,  and  habited  in  deep 
mourning.  Canova's  heart  failed  at  the  sight ;  but 
mustering  up  courage  as  she  was  departing  he  ven- 
tured to  inquire  for  her  friend.  "  i«  Signora  Julia 
is  dead,"  replied  she,  as,  bursting  into  tears,  she  hur- 
ried away,  leaving  the  artist  to  subdue  and  digest  his 
agonizing  grief 

One  could  have  imagined  Canova,  who,  in  after 
years,  twice  on  the  eve  of  marriage,  was  eflectually 
appalled  by  the  fear  of  matrimony  diverting  his  at- 
tention from  his  professional  pursuits,  free  from  the 
weakness  of  having  indulged  in  such  dreams;  but  the 
reverse  seems,  in  some  measure,  to  justify  the  poet's 
question — 

"  In  joyous  youth,  what  soul  hath  never  known, 
Thought,  feeling,  taste,  harmonious  to  its  own  ? 
Who  hath  not  paused  while  beauty's  pensive  eye 
Asked  from  his  heart  the  homage  of  a  sigh  ? 
Who  hath  not  owned,  with  rapture-smitten  frame, 
The  power  of  grace,  the  magic  of  a  name  ?" 

However,  Canova  did  not  "  haunt  the  gloomy  shrine 
of  hopeless  love,"  but  the  form  of  the  fair  student  of 
ancient  art  is  said  to  have  been  present  to  his  imair 
ination  in  the  hours  of  severe  thought  and  solitary 
labor,  wherein  he  prepared  for  the  Vv'^orld  those  prooij 
of  genius  which  have  exalted  him  on  so  elevated  a 


BOYHOOD  OF  CANOVA.  315 

pcJeslal  of  fame.  His  ambition  continued  to  wax 
stronger  as  his  experience  increased,  and  perpetually 
prompted  him  to  great  exertions.  Nothing,  indeed, 
could  surpass  the  ardor  of  his  aspirations  and  the  rest- 
lessness of  his  spirit,  which  enthusiastically  longed 
for  that  fame,  of  v/hose  arrival  it  was  prescient.  Ere 
long,  conceiving  himself  qualified  to  perform  some- 
thing worthy  of  his  ambition,  he  modeled  the  "  Group 
of  Orpheus  and  Eurydice,"  large  as  life,  and  carved 
it  in  soft  Venetian  stone.  It  was  exhibited  in  1776, 
on  the  annual  festival  of  Ascension,  when  it  was  cus- 
tomary for  artists  to  expose  their  recently  finished 
works  to  public  view  in  the  square  of  St.  Mark's. 
On  its  being  received  with  great  applause,  he  raptur- 
ously exclaimed,  "  This  praise  has  made  me  a  sculp- 
tor." He  soon  after  opened  his  first  studio,  and  his 
next  work  was  a  statue  of  Esculapius  in  marble, 
which  was  visited  by  him  a  fev/  months  previously 
to  his  death.  On  surveying  it  he  declared  sorrowfully, 
"  For  these  forty  years  my  progress  has  not  corres- 
ponded with  the  indications  of  excellence  in  this  work 
of  my  youth." 

Meantime  he  studied  dihgently  among  tKe  remains 
of  ancient  art,  and  stored  his  mind  from  nature  with 
images  of  loveliness,  to  be  used  when  a  fitting  occa- 
sion offered  itself  of  presenting  them.  The  people  of 
Venice  felt  the  beauty  of  Canova's  works,  and  re- 
warded their  merit  with  a  small  pension  on  his  de- 
parture for  Rome,  in  the  twenty-fourth  year  of  his  life 


316  SCULPTORa. 

There  he  foiuid  a  kind  and  active  friend  in  Gavin 
Hamilton,  the  Scottish  painter,  author  of  "  Schola 
ItaHca  Picturaj,"  and  a  cordial  welcome  from  the 
sculptors  of  the  capital.  The  Venetian  Embassadoi 
introduced  him  to  the  society  of  the  learned  and  noble, 
besides  giving  him  a  commission  for  a  group  of  The- 
seus and  the  Minotaur  in  marble,  which  he  executed 
with  brilliant  success.  It  was  exhibited  by  torch- 
light, in  the  summer  of  1782,  at  a  banquet  given  on 
purpose  by  the  Embassador  to  the  first  men  in  E-ome ; 
who,  with  one  voice,  bestowed  on  it  the  highest  praise. 
His  subsequent  career  was  a  succession  of  triumphant 
achievements  in  art.  His  fame  traveled  over  Europe. 
The  King  of  England  and  the  Emperor  of  France 
became  his  zealous  patrons;  the  Pope  in  1810  con- 
ferred the  title  of  Marquis  of  Ischia,  along  with  a  pen- 
sion, and  refused  to  allov/  his  choice  works  to  go  out 
of  Fvome  ;  and  he,  whose  grandfather's  ambition  had 
been  to  see  him  mason  of  an  obscure  village,  died  on 
the  13th  of  October,  1822,  in  possession  of  numerous 
distinctions,  boundless  honor,  and  imperishable  fame. 
No  betlei-  instance  could  be  produced  of  the  might 
of  genius,  v/hen  true  to  itself;  and  tlie  power  of  in- 
dustry, when  fairly  directed. 


BOYHOOD  OF  THORWALDSEN. 

While  Canova  was  studying  in  the  stately  palace 
of  the  Falieri,  gazing  with  delighted  eye  on  their  noble 
specuiiens  of  art — gliding  in  their  long,  narrow  gon- 
dola, beneath  the  Hialto,  or  Bridge  of  Sighs — and 
surveying  with  a  feeling  of  pleasing  wonder  the 
magnificent  church  of  St.  Mark,  and  the  other  rare 
works  of  architecture  iu  which  Venice  abounded,  a 
nascent  sculptor,  destined  for  half  a  century  to  charm 
the  hearts  of  men  with  the  beauty  of  his  designs,  was 
passing  a  somewhat  miserable  childhood  iu  the 
marsh-surrounded  capital  of  Denmark. 

Bertel  Thorwaldsen  was  born  in  the  year  1770  , 
but  the  story  of  his  birth  having  taken  place  at  Sea, 
appears  to  be  altogether  fabulous.  Though  in  a 
lowly  sphere  during  boyhood,  and  wretched  from  the 
poverty  of  his  father's  household,  and  other  circum- 
stances, he  is  said  to  have  derived  his  descent  from  a 
family  of  noble  blood,  many  generations  of  which  had 
lived  and  died  in  Iceland.  It  is  interesting  to  know 
that  one  of  its  members  had  been  famous  for  his  skill 
in  sculpturing  images  as  early  as  the  twelfth  century 
Thorwaldsen's  father  had  been  forced  when  young 
to  leave  his  native  Myklabai,  and  seek  employment 
as  a  carver  of  wood ;  though  it  does  not  appear  that 
he  was  distinguished  for  any  thing  approaching  to 
excellence  in  the  craft. 


318  SCULPTORS. 

Young  Bertel  had  little  or  no  education,  except 
such  as  he  received  foom  his  mother,  the  daughter  of 
a  Jutland  peasant.  Indeed  it  was  so  defective  that, 
on  going  to  Rome,  at  twenty-seven,  he  was  under  the 
necessity  of  learning  the  grammar  of  his  own  coun- 
try's language.  Moreover,  he  was  so  indiffeient  a 
penman,  that  whenever  he  had  occasion  to  enter  into 
correspondence,  in  after  life,  he  was  fain  to  borrow 
the  services  of  a  friend  ;  and  when  this  was  not  in 
his  power,  he  was  often  obliged  to  write  a  letter  three 
or  four  times  before  producing  one  creditable  enough 
to  be  dispatched.  Nevertheless  Thorwaldsen's  artis- 
tic talent  soon  became  apparent ;  his  father  impart- 
ed to  him  as  much  knowledge  of  drawing  as  ho 
himself  possessed  ;  and,  in  his  eleventh  year,  he  was 
admitted  as  a  pupil  in  the  drawing-class  of  the  public 
Academy.  While  attending  it,  he  employed  his 
time  to  such  good  purpose,  that  he  soon  became  em- 
inently useful  to  his  father  in  the  carving  of  figure- 
heads for  ships,  and  turned  his  talent  for  drawing  to 
such  an  account,  that  the  wood-carver's  business  was 
much  increased,  both  in  extent  and  remuneration. 
The  latter,  being  unfortunately  inclined  to  idleness 
and  dissipation,  and  finding  his  son's  labors  so  ex- 
tremely useful  and  profitable,  was  selfish  enough  to 
monopolize  the  whole  of  the  boy's  time  that  was  not 
occupied  with  lessons  at  the  Academy.  And  Bertel 
was  merely  remarked  by  his  townsmen  as  a  tall,  fair 
lad,   with   mean   clothes,   and  uncombed   hair,    who 


BOYHOOD  OF  TIIORWALDSEN.  319 

carried  his  father's  tools  when  he  went  to  the  dock- 
yards, assisted  him  when  at  work  in  the  stall,  or  ac- 
companied him  when  taking  mirror-frames  to  some 
neighboring  shop. 

In  1785  he  was  promoted  to  the  modeling  class, 
and  thus  had  new  opportunities  of  improvement  pre- 
sented. But  his  father,  who  ever  stood  in  the  way 
of  his  son's  genius  having  fair  play,  removed  him 
from  the  Academy,  and  confined  him  to  his  own  trade 
for  a  space  of  two  years. 

It  was  fortunate,  however,  that  Thorwald.sen's 
friends  at  the  Academy  had  marked  and  appreciated 
his  remarkable  abilities.  Indignant  that  so  unques- 
tionable a  genius  should  be  unworthily  and  prema- 
turely lost,  they  exerted  themselves  so  strenuously  to 
recall  him  to  the  proper  scene  of  his  studies,  that 
they  at  length  succeeded  ;  and  from  this  point,  in 
spite  of  all  drawbacks,  his  progress  was  so  cheering 
and  continuous,  that  in  his  nineteenth  year  he  had 
the  satisfaction  and  encouragement  of  gaining  a  prizo 
for  modeling. 

Two  years  later  he  became  a  candidate  for  the 
Bmaller  gold  medal  of  the  Academy.  One  of  the 
conditions  of  the  artistic  contest  was,  that  each  aspi 
rant  should  shut  himself  up  in  a  room,  and  there, 
with  no  aid  nor  prompting,  save  those  of  dexterity 
and  genius,  prepare  a  model  on  a  given  subject. 
This  trial  nearly  proved  too  much  for  Thorwaldsen 
When  left  alone  to  his  meditations,  his  confidence 


3i»  SCLLPTORS. 

quite  forsook  him  ;  and  be  conceived  so  much  alarm 
at  the  severity  of  the  ordeal,  that  he  left  the  apart- 
ment, and  escaped  down  a  side  stair.  Luckily  for 
himself  and  his  art,  he  encountered,  under  the  arch- 
ed doorway  of  the  huilduig,  one  of  the  professors, 
who  at  once  recognized  him.  This  learned  worthy, 
feeling  a  sincere  interest  in  Thorwaldsen's  welfare, 
questioned  him  closely  as  to  his  reason  for  losing 
hope,  obtained  a  full  confession,  pointed  out  the  folly 
of  the  course  he  was  taking,  and  urged  him  to  return 
with  so  much  earnestness,  that  the  young  sculptor 
went  back  to  his  post.  Within  four  hours  he  exe- 
cuted a  sketch  which  put  all  his  doubts  and  fears  to 
flight,  and  rendered  him  successful  against  all  com- 
petitors. 

After  this  well-merited  triumph  Thorwaldsen's 
prospects  brightened,  patrons  of  art  began  to  smile 
upon  him,  and  he  was  employed  in  modeling  by  the 
court  architect.  Besides,  he  earned  money,  and  got 
into  better  society,  by  taking  likenesses,  and  giving 
lessons  in  drawing  ;  and  he  looked  forward  with  hope 
and  courage  to  carrying  off  the  great  gold  medal  of 
the  Academy — the  highest  distinction  within  the 
students'  reach. 

This  he  accomplished  with  honor  in  his  twenty- 
third  year ;  and  henceforth  his  position  was  more 
pleasant  and  tolerable.  In  fact  his  income  was  now 
considerable  ;  and,  not  to  mention  sentiments  of  a 
:nore  tender  kind,  his  friendships  were  so  uiichanging, 


BOYHOOD  OF  THORWALDSEN.  321 

that  lie  did  not,  at  that  period,  take  advantage  of  tho 
traveling  pension  for  three  years,  attached  to  the  prize 
he  had  won. 

However,  some  years  afterv/ard,  he  determined  to 
avail  himself  of  the  privilege,  and  his  application  for 
it  was  immediately  granted,  along  with  that  of  a  free 
passage  to  the  Mediterranean  in  a  Government  frigate. 
On  arriving  in  Ptome,  Thorwaldsen  presented  him- 
self to  the  Danish  consul,  to  whom  he  had  been  rec- 
ommended. That  functionary  recognized,  at  once, 
his  want  of  education  and  his  remarkable  talents. 
The  sculptor  was  still  awkward,  reserved,  and  uncul- 
tivated in  manner.  Moreover,  he  was  in  too  many 
respects  careless  and  indolent ;  but  these  reprehensi- 
ble habits  seem  to  have  arisen  chiefly  from  his  utter 
iiiditTerence  to  all  subjects  except  that  to  which  his 
attention  was  directed,  and  with  which  his  name  is 
associated,  because  all  indolence  speedily  disappeared 
when  he  was  in  the  presence  of  the  monuments  of 
ancient  art  that  remained  in  Rome  ;  and  he  set  him 
self  to  copy  and  model,  with  the  eye,  hand,  and  spirit 
of  a  true  artist.  The  times  and  circumstances  wero 
provokingly  unpropitious  ,  and  though  his  first  great 
work,  "Jason,"  was  much  admired,  it  stood  for  years 
ill  clay,  without  being  commissioned.  He  had  al- 
ready through  the  influence  of  his  friends  obtained  and 
exhausted  a  prolongation  of  the  time,  during  which 
the  Danish  Academy's  traveling  pension  was  allowed, 
and  matters  still  wearing  a  gloomy  appearance,  he 
X 


322  SCULPTORS. 

resolved,  though  unwillingly,  to  retrace  his  steps  to 
his  native  land.  Preparations,  with  that  view,  had 
actually  been  made,  when  Mr.  Hope,  the  author  of 
"  Anastasius,"  visited  his  st-idio,  and  comniissioned 
nis  Jason  for  800  zecchins 

On  this,  Thorwaldsen  instantly  abandoned  his  idea 
of  returning  to  Denmark,  and  devoted  himself  to  his 
art  with  consummate  success.  It  was  not  till  his  fif- 
tieth year  that  he  revisited  the  scenes  of  his  sad  and 
dispiriting  boyhood.  Then,  indeed,  those  whom  he 
would  naturally  have  desired  to  please,  and  who,  be- 
yond all  others,  must  have  been  gratified  with  his  suc- 
cess, had  gone  where  the  weary  are  at  rest.  The 
mother  had  died  of  something  like  a  broken  heart; 
and  the  father  soon  after  breathed  his  last  in  an  alms- 
house, feeling — perhaps,  not  without  a  cause — indig- 
nant, that  he  should  have  been  allowed  to  be  in  such 
a  place.  But  the  son  had  meantime,  by  the  exercise 
of  his  natural  gifts,  won  a  famous  name,  and  estab- 
lished a  European  reputation.  His  creative  faculties 
continued  unimpaired  and  productive  to  the  end  of  his 
long  life;  and  he  died  in  the  year  1844,  having,  in 
spite  of  inausjiioious  influences  and  multitudinous  dis- 
advantages, raised  himself  from  the  chili,  dishearten 
ing  atmosphere  of  a  carver's  stall  to  the  highest  honoi 
among  artists,  fascinated  the  world  with  the  emana- 
tions of  his  rich  genius,  and  earned  for  himself  a  splen- 
did and  wide-sproad  fame. 


CHAPTER  XVr. 
9cliolar0, 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  WILLIAM  JONES 

Dr.  Johnson  says,  that  "  to  think  in  solitude,  to 
read  and  to  hear,  to  inquire  and  to  answer  inquiries, 
is  the  business  of  a  scholar.  He  wanders  about  the 
world  without  pomp  or  terror,  and  is  neither  known 
nor  valued  but  by  men  like  himself." 

Such,  however,  was  not  the  case  with  Sir  William 
Jones,  notwithstanding  his  extraordinary  love  of  let- 
ters and  learning.  As  a  lawyer  he  enjoyed  a  fair 
share  of  practice,  wrote  the  "  Essay  on  Bailments," 
considered  the  best  law-book  in  the  English  language, 
and  finally  obtained  the  object  of  his  ambition,  an 
Indian  judgeship. 

His  father,  a  native  of  Anglesey,  was  an  eminent 
mathematician  in  London,  where  the  future  scholar 
was  born  in  the  year  1746.  When  only  three  years 
old  lie  lost  his  father ;  but  it  was  his  good  fortune  to 
have  a  mother  of  strong  mind,  sound  sense,  and  con- 
siderable acquirements,  who  inspired  him  with  Chri.* 


824  SCHOLARS. 

tian  piety  and  a  taste  for  learning.  Even  at  that 
early  age  he  became  remarkable  for  his  industry  in 
searching  for  knowledge  ;  and  when  he  applied  to  his 
mother  for  information  on  any  subject,  her  constant 
answer  was, "  Read,  and  you  will  know."  The  words 
sank  deep  into  his  heart,  and  formed  his  rule  through- 
out life  so  completely,  that  within  a  week  of  his 
death  on  the  banks  of  the  Ganges,  he  was  busily  oc- 
cupying himself  with  the  study  of  books  relating  to 
several  Oriental  dialects.  In  his  fifth  year  his  imag- 
ination was  captivated,  and  his  heart  lastingly  im- 
pressed, with  the  sublime  description  of  the  descent  of 
the  angel  in  the  tenth  chapter  of  the  Apocalypse. 

When  he  had  reached  the  age  of  seven,  he  vi'as 
sent  to  Harrow,  and  put  into  a  class  so  much  beyond 
his  years,  that  all  his  companions  had  the  advantage 
of  him  in  previous  instruction.  This,  as  Sir  Walter 
Scott  has  shown,  is  a  perilous  position  for  a  boy ; 
but  nothing  could  daunt  the  diligence  of  Jones,  who 
straightway  procured  the  grammars  and  other  books, 
the  knov.'ledge  of  which  rendered  his  class-fellows  his 
superiors,  and  studied  them  so  resolutely,  that  eie 
long  he  began  to  shoot  ahead  of  the  other  boys,  and 
m  due  time  was  regarded  as  the  pride  of  the  school. 
His  companions  and  teachers  were  alike  struck  by 
the  wonderful  diligence  and  talents  he  brought  to 
bear  on  his  studies.  So  great,  indeed,  was  his  devotion 
to  study,  that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  sitting  up  for 
whole  nights  over  his  books,  and  defying  sleep  by  the 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  WILLIAM  JONES.  325 

aid  of  tea.  His  labors  encountered  for  the  sake  of 
learning  far  exceeded  the  tasks  he  had  to  prepare  for 
school ;  and,  even  then,  he  made  so  much  progress 
in  legal  knowledge  as  to  be  able  to  put  to  his  com- 
panions cases  from  an  abridgement  of  "  Coke's  Insti- 
tutes." One  of  his  Harrow  contemporaries,  after- 
ward Bishop  of  Cloyne,  describes  him  at  eight  or 
nine  as  an  "  uncommon  boy  ;"  and  in  writing  of  his 
subsequent  school  career,  he  says — 

"  Great  abilities,  great  particularity  of  thinking, 
fondness  for  writing  verses  and  plays  of  various 
kinds,  and  a  degree  of  integrity  and  manly  courage, 
distinguished  him  even  at  that  period.  I  loved  and 
revered  him ;  and  though  one  or  two  years  older  than  he, 
was  always  instructed  by  him  from  my  earliest  age." 

"  To  exquisite  taste  and  learning,  quite  unparal 
leled,"  writes  Dr.  Parr,  another  of  his  schoolfellows, 
"  Sir  William  Jones  is  known  to  have  united  the 
most  benevolent  temper  and  the  purest  morals." 

Dr.  Thackeray,  at  that  time  master  at  Harrow, 
declared  the  mind  of  Jones  to  be  so  active,  that  if  he 
were  left  naked  and  friendless  on  Salisbury  Plain, 
he  would,  nevertheless,  find  the  road  to  fame  and 
riches. 

On  leaving  school,  his  relations  wished  him  to  be 
placed  forthwith,  to  be  initiated  intc  the  mysteries  of 
law  by  a  special  pleader,  but  he  was  entered  at  Uni- 
versity College,  Oxford,  in  17G2.  He  there,  besides 
complying  with  the  discipline  of  the  place,  and  con- 


326  SCHOLARS, 

tinuing  his  classical  studies,  made  great  progress  in 
the  languages  of  modem  Europe.  He  had,  during 
his  leisure  hours  at  Harrow,  learned  the  Arabic  char- 
acters ;  and  he  now,  with  the  assistance  of  a  native 
of  Aleppo,  applied  himself  to  the  study  of  the  Oriental 
languages,  of  which  he  afterward  possessed  a  knowl- 
edge so  marvelous.  His  accomplishments,  indeed, 
were  great  and  various.  He  seems  to  have  aspired 
to— 

"The  courtier's,  soldier's,  scholars  eye.  tongue,  sword," 

in  fact,  to  being  a  sort  of  modern  Admirable  Crich- 
ton ;  for,  during  the  vacations  spent  in  London,  he 
had  himself  instructed  in  fencing  and  horsemanship, 
occupied  himself  with  the  best  authors  of  Italy, 
France,  Spain,  and  Portugal ;  a  year  or  two  later  he 
seized  the  opportunity,  being  in  Germany,  to  learn 
music,  dancing,  and  the  art  of  playing  on  the  Welsh 
harp;  he  studied  Newton's  "  Principia,"  and  attended 
the  lectures  of  Dr.  William  Hunter,  on  Anatomy. 
Well,  indeed,  might  he  boast,  when  writing  to  a 
friend,  that  with  the  fortune  of  a  peasant  he  was  giving 
himself  the  education  of  a  prince. 

In  1765  he  became  private  tutor  to  Lord  Al- 
.horpe,  whom  he  accompanied  to  Spa.  On  return- 
ing, he  resided  with  his  pupil  at  Harrow,  where,  at 
the  request  of  the  King  of  Denmark,  he  translated 
the  "  Life  of  Nadir  Shah,"  from  Persian  into  French. 
Shortly   after    this    he    resigned    his    tutorship,    and 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR' WILLIAM  JONES.  327 

entered  himself  as  a  student  of  law  at  the  Temple, 
in  compliance  with  the  request  of  his  friends. 

"  Their  advice,"  he  writes,  "  was  conformable  to 
my  own  inclinations  ;  for  the  only  road  to  the  highest 
stations  in  this  country  is  that  of  law,  and  I  need 
not  add,  how  anrbitious  and  laborious  I  am."  And 
later,  "  I  have  learned  so  much,  seen  so  much,  said 
so  much,  and  thought  so  much,  since  I  conversed 
with  you,  that  were  I  to  attempt  to  tell  half  what  1 
have  learned,  seen,  writ,  said,  and  thought,  my  letter 
would  have  no  end.  I  spend  the  whole  winter  in 
attending  to  the  public  speeches  of  our  greatest 
lawyers  and  senators,  and  in  studying  our  own  ad- 
.aiirable  laws.  I  give  up  my  leisure  hours  to  a  polit- 
ical treatise,  from  which  I  expect  some  reputation ; 
and  I  have  several  objects  of  ambition  which  I  can 
not  trust  to  a  letter,  but  will  impart  to  you  when  we 
meet." 

Notwithstanding  his  numerous  avocations,  he  pre- 
pared for  publication  a  collection  of  poems,  con.sisting 
chiefly  of  translations  from  the  Oriental  languages, 
which  appeared  in  1772,  when  he  was  elected  a  Fel- 
low of  the  Pi.oyal  Society.  Two  years  later  appeared 
his  celebrated  commentaries,  "  De  Poesi  Asiatica," 
which  gained  him  much  and  wide-spread  fame. 

On  being  called  to  the  bar,  he  relinquished  for  a 
while  his  literary  pursuits,  devoted  himself  with  assi- 
duity to  his  legal  functions,  and  was,  without  solici- 
tation, appointed  a  Commissioner  in  Bankruptcy.     In 


328  SCHOLARS. 

1788  he  published  his  translation  of  the  "  Isseus,' 
which  displayed  mu3h  profound  and  critical  research, 
and  excited  great  admiration.  He  realized  the  grand 
object  of  his  ambition  in  being  appointed  a  judge  of 
the  Supreme  Court  of  Judicature  in  Bengal  in  1783. 
On  arrival  in  India  he  established  the  Asiatic  Society, 
and  studied  the  Sanscrit  and  Arabic  languages  with 
great  success,  and  undertook  to  superintend  a  digest 
of  the  Hindoo  and  Mohammedan  jurisprudence.  He 
did  not,  however,  live  to  fulfill  his  intention,  being 
cut  off  on  the  27th  of  April,  1794. 

His  acquirements  as  a  linguist  were  almost  miracu- 
lous, and  embraced  the  knowledge  of  twenty-eight 
different  languages,  the  result  of  diligent  labor,  in- 
tense study,  and  matchless  regularity  ;  and  of  a  fixed 
determination  never  to  allow  any  difficulty  that  could 
possibly  be  surmounted  to  bar  his  onward  course. 

The  maxim  of  this  great  man  was,  never  to  neglect 
any  opportunity  of  improvement  that  presented  itself; 
and  he  acted  upon  it  with  a  vigor,  earnestness,  and 
success,  which  may  well  tempt  the  juvenile  scholai 
to  do  likewise  ;  to  emulate  the  industry  by  which  he 
acquired  his  spotless  fame,  and  the  faith  which  he  so 
fclrlctly  maintained  with  his  neighbor  and  his  God,   . 


BOYHOOD  OF  DR    ARNOLD. 

The  boyhood  of  this  great  and  good  man  was  char 
acterized  rather  by  freedom  and  honesty,  a  sanguine 
temperament,  and  great  capabihty  of"  growth,"  than 
by  any  such  brilhancy  as  might  have  been  expected 
in  one  afterward  so  distinguished. 

Bat  the  aspirations  after  distinction  he  displayed, 
even  in  childhood,  and  his  early  interest  in  some  of 
the  subjects,  with  which  he  subsequently  connected 
his  name,  are  in  an  eminent  degree  worthy  of  remark, 
study,  and  consideration. 

"Few  men  of  Arnold's  station,"  it  has  been  said, 
"  have  been  so  much  before  the  public  during  their 
lifetime,  and  in  so  many  ways.  He  was  the  first 
English  editor  of  Thucydides,  and  the  first  accom- 
modator  of  Niebuhr  to  English  tastes  and  under- 
standmgs.  He  Avas  also,  for  some  fourteen  years,  the 
prince  of  schoolmasters  on  that  most  trying  of  all 
stages — an  English  public  school ;  and  he  lived  to 
stand  forward  almost  as  long  an  uncompromising 
opponent  of  the  new  form  of  Oxford  priestcraft." 

Thomas  Arnold  Avas  born  on  the  13th  of  June, 
1795,  at  West  Cowes,  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  where 
his  family,  originally  from  LowestoiT,  in  Suffolk  had 
been  settled  for  two  generations.  His  father  was 
Collector  of  Customs  at  Cowes,  and  had  six  children, 
besides  the  eminent  scholar,  whose  early  education 


330  SCHOLARS. 

was  intrusted  to  his  mother's  sister.  This  worthy 
spinster  watched  over  and  directed  his  childish  studies 
with  affectionate  care  and  gratified  pride;  and  he 
soon  began  to  exhibit  symptoms  of  no  ordinary  capac- 
ity. He  was  especially  remarkable  for  his  early  at- 
tainments in  history  and  geography.  His  wonderful 
memory,  which  early  displayed  its  powers  in  regard 
to  these  subjects,  enabled  him  to  remember  having, 
when  three  years  old,  received  a  present  of  Smollett's 
"  History  of  England"  as  a  reward  for  his  accuracy 
in  going  through  the  stories  connected  with  the  vari- 
ous reigns  ;  and,  at  the  same  age,  he  used  to  sit  at 
his  aunt's  table  arranging  his  geographical  cards,  and 
recognizing,  by  their  shape,  at  a  glance,  the  different 
counties  of  the  dissected  map  of  England. 

During  his  residence  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  which 
was  in  a  season  of  war,  he  of  course  saw  much  of 
naval  and  military  affairs,  and  was  quite  captivated 
with  such  scenes ;  indeed,  they  gave  a  color  to  his 
powerful  mind,  which  time  could  never  eflace.  The 
sports  in  which  he  chiefly  indulged  with  the  few  com- 
panions of  his  childhood  were  the  sailing  of  small 
ehips  in  his  father's  garden,  and,  as  if  his  future  pur- 
suits were  herein  foreshadowed,  acting  the  battles  of 
Homer's  heroes  with  whatever  implements  could  be 
us;d  as  spear  and  shield,  and  reciting  appropriate 
Bpeeches  from  Pope's  translation  of  the  Iliad.  Before 
he  had  reached  his  seventh  year,  he  had  composed 
a  little  tragedy  on  Percy,  Earl  of  Northumberland, 


BOYHOOD  OF  DR.  ARNOLD.  33i 

which  has  been  preserved,  and  is  said  to  show  great 
accuracy  and  precision  in  the  writing  and  arrange- 
ment of  the  acts  and  scenes.  He  always  looked  back 
upon  these  early  years  of  his  existence  with  a  peculiar 
tenderness ;  and  when  settled  in  life,  delighted  to 
gather  around  him  memorials  of  his  father's  house- 
hold, treasured  up  every  particular  of  his  own  and 
his  forefathers'  birth  and  parentage,  and  even  trans- 
planted shoots  of  an  aged  willow  in  his  father's  grounds, 
to  the  places  where  he  subsequently  resided  at  L ale- 
ham,  Rugby,  and  Fox  How.  In  the  same  spirit  he 
carefully  preserved  and  left,  in  his  own  hand-writing 
for  the  information  of  his  children  and  descendants, 
every  date  and  circumstance  in  the  history  of  the 
family  to  which  he  belonged. 

Arnold's  father  died  in  1801  ;  and,  two  years  later, 
the  young  scholar  was  sent  to  Warminster  School,  in 
Wiltshire,  with  the  masters  of  which  he  kept  up  a 
continual  intercourse  long  after  they  had  parted. 
He  always  retained  a  pleasant  recollection  of  the 
books  to  which  he  had  access  in  the  library,  and 
when  in  his  professional  chair  at  Oxford,  quoted  from 
the  memory  of  what  he  had  read  there  when  he  was 
eight  years  old.  In  1807  he  entered  Winchester  as 
a  commoner,  and  afterward  became  a  scholar  of  the 
college.  He  had  always  been  excessively  fond  of  bal- 
lad poetry,  much  of  which  his  new  schoolfellows 
learned  from  his  recitation  before  they  had  seen  it  in 
print ;  and  his  own  boyish  efforts  at  rhyme  all  ran  in 


338  SCHOLARS, 

that  style.  From  producing  a  play,  in  which  hii^ 
Bchoolfellows  were  introduced  as  the  dramatis  per- 
sonce,  and  a  long  poem,  entitled  "  Simon  de  Mont- 
fort,"  in  imitation  of  "  Marmion,"  he  received  the 
appellation  of  Poet  Arnold,  to  distinguish  him  from 
another  boy  of  the  same  surname.  He  now  diligent- 
ly studied  Ptussell's  "Modern  Europe;"  he  read 
Gibbon  and  Mitford  twice  before  leaving  school ; 
and  in  his  letters  written  from  Winchester,  which 
are  considered  like  those  of  a  person  living  chiefly  in 
the  company  of  his  seniors,  and  reading  or  hearing 
read  such  books  as  are  suited  to  a  more  advanced 
age,  are  passages  highly  interesting  when  considered 
in  connection  with  the  important  labors  of  his  ma 
ture  years.  His  manner,  wliich  afterward  became 
joyous  and  simple,  was  characterized  by  stiffness  and 
formality  at  the  time  of  his  departure  from  Winches- 
ter. This  took  place  in  1811  ;  but  he  ever  cherished 
a  strong  feeling  of  affection  for  the  venerable  institu- 
tion, and  when  at  Rugby  would  recur  to  his  knowl- 
edge of  the  constitution  of  a  public  school,  acquired 
while  taking  the  Wykehamist  stamp. 

In  his  sixteenth  year  he  was  elected  a  scholar  of 
Corpus  Christi  College,  Oxford,  though  opposed  by 
several  vei-y  respectable  candidates.  He  was  then  a 
mere  boy  in  appearance  ;  but  it  soon  turned  out  that 
he  was  quite  ready  and  equal  to  taking  his  part  in 
the  argument  of  the  common  room.  At  Oxford  ho 
Ibrmed  friendshi])5  which  exercised  a  great  influence 


BOYHOOD  OF  DR.  ARNOLD.  333 

un  liis  career ;  and  conceived  an  affection  for  tlie 
place,  which  seems  never  to  have  faded  from  his 
heart.  Tlie  inmates  of  the  college  lived  on  the  most 
familiar  terms  with  each  other  ;  they  took  great  inter- 
est in  ancient  and  modern  literature  ;  they  debated 
all  the  exciting  questions  of  the  day  ;  they  fought 
over  the  battles  and  sieges  of  the  period ;  and  they 
discussed  poetry,  history,  and  other  subjects,  with 
great  energy  and  zeal.  Their  habits  were  temperate 
and  inexpensive  ;  but  one  break-up  party  was  held  in 
the  junior  common  room,  at  the  end  of  each  term, 
when  their  genius  and  merriment  were  freely  in- 
dulged. Arnold,  it  is  stated,  was  not  a  formed  scholar 
when  he  entered  the  University,  and  his  compositions 
hardly  gave  indications  of  the  excellence  he  Avas  to 
arrive  at.  The  year  following  he  was  an  unsuccess- 
ful competitor  for  the  Latin  verse  prize.  Several 
poems  of  his  written  about  this  period  are  pronounced 
by  Mr.  Justice  Coleridge  to  be  neat  and  pointed  in 
expression  and  just  in  thought,  but  not  remarkable 
for  fancy  or  imagination.  Years  after,  he  told  that 
eminent  individual,  that  he  continued  the  practice  of 
verse-making,  "  on  principle,"  as  a  useful  and  human- 
izing exercise.  Yet,  though  not  a  poet  himself,  he 
loved  the  poetry  of  others,  and  was  sensible  of  its 
beauties. 

But  his  passion  at  that  time  was  for  Aristotle  and 
Thucydides.  He  became  deeply  imbued  with  the 
language  and  ideas  of  the  former,  and  his  fondness 


334  SCHOLARS. 

for  the  latter  first  prompted  a  "  Lexicon  Thucydide- 
urn,"  which  ended  in  his  valuable  edition  of  that 
author.  Next  to  those,  he  loved  Herodotus,  whose 
manner,  as  that  of  Thucydides,  he  had  so  thoroughly 
studied  and  so  much  enjoyed,  that  he  could,  with 
wonderful  facility  and  accuracy,  write  narratives  at 
pleasure  in  the  style  of  either.  During  his  residence 
at  Oxford,  a  small  debating  club  called  the  Attic 
Society,  which  was  the  germ  of  the  Union,  was 
formed,  and  held  its  meetings  in  the  rooms  of  the 
members  by  turns.  Arnold  was  among  its  earliest 
members  ;  but  was  an  embarrassed  speaker,  partly 
from  his  bashfulness,  and  partly  from  his  repugnance 
to  introduce  any  thing  in  the  slightest  degree  out  of 
time  or  place. 

His  bodily  recreations  were  walking  and  bathing. 
fie  was  particularly  fond  of  making  what  he  called 
a  skirmish  across  the  country  with  two  or  three  of 
his  chosen  comrades,  leaving  the  highroad,  crossing 
fences,  and  leaping  or  falling  into  ditches.  Though 
delicate  in  appearance  and  slight  in  form,  he  was 
capable  of  going  long  distances  and  bearing  much 
fatigue,  and  while  out  in  this  way,  he  overflowed 
with  mirth  and  spirits.  From  his  boyish  days  he 
had  a  great  difficulty  in  early  rising ;  and  though 
this  was  overcome  by  habit,  he  often  said  that  early 
rising  was  to  him  a  daily  eflbrt. 

In  1814  Arnold's  name  was  placed  in  the  first 
class  in  Litteraj   Humaniorcs.     Next  year  he   waa 


BOYHOOD  OF  DR.  ARNOLD.  235 

elected  a  fellow  of  Oriel  College,  which  numbered 
among  its  members  some  of  the  most  rising  men  in 
the  University ;  and  he  gained  the  Chancellor's  prizo 
for  the  two  University  essays,  Latin  and  English,  for 
the  years  1815  and  1817. 

He  remained  at  Oxford  four  years  after  the  former 
date,  taking  private  pupils,  and  reading  extensively 
in  the  libraries.  The  privilege  of  doing  so  he  never 
ceased  to  remember  with  satisfaction,  and  always 
attempted  strongly  to  impress  upon  others  the  import- 
ance of  duly  taking  advantage  of  it.  The  results 
of  his  industry  still  exist  in  a  great  number  of  manu- 
scripts, both  in  the  form  of  abstracts  of  other  works, 
and  original  sketches  on  history  and  theology.  He 
endeavored,  in  his  historical  studies,  to  follow  the 
plan,  which  he  afterward  recommended  in  his  lec- 
tures, of  making  himself  thoroughly  master  of  one 
period ;  and  the  fifteenth  century,  with  Philip  de 
Comines  as  his  text-book,  is  stated  as  having  been 
the  chief  sphere  of  his  studies  during  his  last  years 
at  Oxford. 

In  1819,  having  the  year  previously  been  ordained 
deacon,  he  settled  at  Laleham,  near  Stains,  where 
he  resided  for  the  next  nine  years,  receiving  into  his 
house  seven  or  eight  young  men  as  pupils  to  prepare 
them  for  the  University.  His  attachment  to  this 
place  was  great ;  and  after  being  elected  to  the  head- 
raastership  at  Rugby,  and  removing  thither  in  1828, 
ho  cast  back  many  a  fond,  lingering  look  to  the  favor- 


S36  SCHOLARS. 

ite  views,  the  sequestered  walks,  the  pleasant  gar- 
dens, and  the  quiet  church-yard,  which  contained  the 
ashes  of  some  of  his  nearest  and  dearest  relatives.  In- 
deed, he  long  contemplated  returning  to  it  to  spend 
his  last  days;  but,  in  1832,  having  been  induced  to 
purchase  Fox  How,  a  small  estate  in  Westmoreland, 
near  Rydal-Mount,  he  usually  spent  the  holidays  there 
during  the  thirteen  years  of  his  head-mastership  at 
Rugby. 

On  the  12th  of  June,  1842,  this  "prince  of  school- 
masters" died  suddenly  in  his  forty-seventh  year,  and 
just  the  day  before  he  was  to  set  off  to  spend  the 
vacation  at  his  retreat  in  Westmoreland,  having  dis- 
tinguished himself,  not  more  by  his  learned  achieve- 
ments in  producing  the  first  English  edition  of  Thu- 
cydides,  and  in  first  accommodating  Niebuhr's  theory 
of  the  early  history  of  Rome  to  English  tastes  and  in 
tellects,  than  by  unwearied  exertions  in  his  career  of 
professional  usefulness,  and  the  moral  and  Christian 
greatness  i  by  which  he  was  characterized. 


CHAP  PER  XVII. 


BOYHOOD  OF  BISHOP  KEN. 

This  excellent  man,  zealous  prelate,  eloquent 
pieacher,  and  eminent  divine,  was  born  in  July,  1637, 
a  period  pregnant  with  events  that  were  to  try  men's 
souls  His  father — an  attorney  in  the  Court  of  Com- 
mon Pleas — was  of  an  ancient  Somersetshire  family, 
while,  on  the  mother's  side,  he  had  the  distinction  of 
deriving  his  descent  in  a  direct  line  from  John  Chalk- 
hill,  the  poet,  scholar,  gentleman,  and  friend  of  Spen- 
ser. However,  Ken  does  not  appear  to  have  inher- 
ited much  poetic  talent,  though  his  having  left  four 
thick  volumes  of  verse  for  pubhcation  argues  that  ha 
himself  held  a  different  opinion. 

Thomas  Ken's  birth-place  was  Little  Berkhamp- 
stead,  a  sequestered  village  in  Hertfordshire,  which 
even  at  this  date  boasts  of  something  like  primitive 
repose  and  simplicity ;  and  there,  in  all  probabihty, 
the  first  few  years  of  this  pious  man's  life  were  spent 

Before  he  had  reached  the  age  of  five  and  was 
Y 


S38  DIVINES. 

capable  of  fully  comprehending  such  a  bereavement, 
he  lost  his  mother  ;  but  he  had  the  advantage  of  be- 
in"'  watched  over  by  his  sister,  who  was  remarkable 
for  piety,  prudence,  meekness,  and  knowledge.  This 
lady  shortly  afterward  became  the  wife  of  the  cele- 
brated Tzaak  Walton,  by  whom  young  Ken  was  guided 
through  all  the  perplexing  paths  of  early  life,  and 
trained  up  in  the  practice  of  all  the  Christian  graces. 
Moreover  Walton  instilled  into  his  opening  mind  so 
exalted  a  view  of  the  honor,  dignity,  and  privilege 
of  being  in  holy  orders,  that,  from  early  boyhood. 
Ken  resolved  to  forego  all  secular  pursuits,  and  to  de 
vote  himself  heart  and  soul  to  the  service  of  the  Church. 
In  his  twelfth  year.  Ken  was  sent  to  Winchester 
School,  and  entered  upon  the  usual  studies  of  the 
place.  Here  his  conduct  was  such  as  to  be  consider- 
ed worthy,  of  example  to  others,  and  his  talents  such 
as  to  pave  the  way  for  his  advancement  to  Oxford. 
The  warden  at  that  time  was  a  Dr.  Plarris,  former- 
ly professor  of  Greek  at  Oxford,  and  so  celebrated  a 
preacher  as  to  be  entitled  to  the  credit  of  having,  in 
gome  measure,  contributed  to  inspire  his  pupil  with 
the  clear,  fluent,  and  fervent  eloquence,  which  after- 
ward converted  Roman  Catholics  of  the  Hague,  and 
attracted  crowds  of  courtiers  to  the  chapel  of  St. 
James.  His  father  died  the  year  after,  and  the  care 
of  the  boy  devolved  on  the  worthy  angler,  who  per- 
formed his  duty  with  pious  zeal.  Ken,  in  his  turn, 
becaaie  the  instructor  of  Walton's  son,  afterward  a 


BOVHOOD  OF  BISHOP  KEN.  33t 

prebendary  of  Salisbun',  and  took  him  under  his 
charge  when  he  went  to  travel  in  Italy  in  167-^. 

Meantime,  at  school,  the  future  prelate,  who  in  the 
holy  discharge  of  his  duty  never  feared  the  face  of  man, 
nor  to  encounter  the  danger  he  defied,  exhibited  the 
holy  habit  of  obedience  to  the  precepts  and  discipline 
of  religion,  for  which  he  Avas  afterward  so  eminently 
distinguished.  The  daily  attendance  of  the  Winches- 
ter boys  in  the  chapel  was  provided  for ;  and  they 
were  commanded  to  take  part  reverentially  in  the 
enjoined  service.  "  So  much  care  is  taken,"  says 
Ken,  in  the  Manual  of  Prayers  which  he  subsequent- 
ly wrote  for  the  use  of  the  students,  "  to  make  the 
j^ouths  good  Christians  as  well  as  good  scholars,  and 
they  go  so  frequently  to  prayers,  every  day  in  the 
chapel  and  in  the  school,  singing  psalms  and  hymns 
to  Goa  so  frequently  in  their  chamber,  and  in  the 
chapel,  and  in  the  hall,  that  they  are  in  a  manner 
brought  up  in  a  perpetuity  of  prayer." 

Ken  was  five  years  in  his  progress  through  the 
several  classes,  all  the  time  growing  in  grace  as  well 
as  in  manly  and  intellectual  vigor ;  and  at  the  end 
of  that  period  had  the  satisfaction  of  being  at  the 
head  of  the  school.  At  the  examination  of  candi- 
dates, in  1656,  he  was  elected  to  New  College. 

Having,  therefore,  according  to  the  approved  cus- 
tom, cut  his  name,  which  is  still  visible,  on  an  an- 
cient stone  buttress,  and  bid  adieu  to  the  library,  to 
which  he   afterward  presented    thirty  pounds   and 


310  DIVINES. 

several  rare  books,  he  betook  himself  to  Oxfoid,  n« 
doubt  rejoicing  in  the  pleasing  prospect  of  residing 
among  her  ancient  spires  and  rich  meadows.  But 
there  being  at  that  particular  time  no  vacancy  in 
New  College,  he  entered  himself  as  a  student  of 
Hart  College,  in  the  hope  of  a  vacancy  occurring 
within  the  year.  At  Oxford  he  met  with  an  old 
school-companion,  Francis  Turner,  who  afterward, 
as  Bishop  of  Ely,  was  to  be  his  fellow-suflerer  from 
the  insane  bigotry  of  James  II.,  and  became  intimate 
with  Lord  Weymouth,  under  whose  roof,  at  Long- 
leat,  he  passed  the  evening  of  his  days,  clouded, 
indeed,  by  worldly  reverses,  unhesitatingly  endured 
for  conscience  sake,  but  bright  with  the  prospect  of  a 
glorious  immortality. 

Within  one  year  of  his  arrival  at  Oxford,  upon 
which  the  iron  and  ruthless  hand  of  Cromwell  then 
lay  heavy,  he  was  admitted  to  New  College.  The 
organists  and  choristers  being  still  silenced  by  the 
government,  musical  societies  were  formed  ;  and  Ken 
having  an  excellent  taste  for  music,  and  being  a 
skillful  player  on  the  lute,  was  one  of  the  perform- 
ers who  held  weekly  meetings  at  their  houses  and 
sometimes  in  the  college  chambers.  In  May  1661. 
he  took  his  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts,  and  that  of 
Master  three  years  later,  devoting  himself  all  the 
time  to  the  study  of  theology  in  the  library,  to  which, 
as  soon  as  circumstances  permitted,  he  presented  up 
ward  of  a  hundred  volumes,  as  an  acUnowledgmenr 


BOYHOOD  OF  BISHOP  KEN.  31jI 

of  benefits  derived  within  its  walls.  At  Oxford  ha 
was  distinguished  by  his  pious  and  charitable  dispo' 
sition,  and  used  always  to  have  small  pieces  of  money 
about  hina  when  he  walked  about  the  streets  and 
saw  proper  objects  of  charity. 

After  being  ordained,  he  was  presented  to  the  rec- 
tory of  Little  Easton,  in  Essex,  where  he  devoted  him- 
self assiduously  to  the  discharge  of  his  pastoral  duties ; 
he  only  allowed  himself  one  sleep,  and  was  in  the  habit 
of  rising  at  one  or  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  to  pre- 
pare himself  by  study  and  devotion  for  the  arduous 
exertions  of  the  day. 

In  1679  he  was  appointed  chaplain  at  the  Hague, 
his  office  being  to  regulate  the  service  in  the  Princess's 
chapel,  according  to  the  usage  of  the  Chucli  of  En- 
gland ;  but  persons  of  all  persuasions  flocked  to  hear 
his  burning  words,  and  breathing  thoughts.  On  re- 
turning to  his  native  country,  he  became  chaplain  to 
the  King  of  England,  and  as  such,  exhibited  remark- 
able courage  in  vindicating  the  dignity  and  sacredness 
of  his  office.  Shortly  afterward  he  was  appointed 
chaplain  in  the  expedition  of  the  fleet  to  Tangier,  and 
on  return  was  installed  as  Bishop  of  Bath  and  "Wells. 
Within  a  week  after  his  consecration  at  Lambeth, 
he  was  called  on  to  attend  the  death-bed  of  Charles 
II.,  as  he  soon  after  did  the  scaffold  of  the  unfortu- 
nate Duke  of  Monmouth. 

When  King  James  took  measures  for  the  establish- 
ment of  Romanism  in  the  land.  Ken,  in  spite  of  royi) 


342  DIVINES. 

reproof,  zealously  set  his  face  against  it,  and  was  on* 
of  the  seven  bishops  tried  and  gloriously  acquitted  in 
1G88,  After  the  Revolution,  however,  refusing  to 
take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  new  government, 
he  was  deprived  of  his  bishopric,  and  conscientiously 
retired  into  poverty.  On  the  accession  of  Queen  Anne, 
fihe  offered  to  restore  him  to  Bath  and  Wells ;  but  he 
declined,  whereupon  her  Majesty  granted  him  a  pen- 
sion of  200Z.  a  year,  which  his  friends  had  consider- 
able difficulty  in  preventing  him  from  bestowing  en- 
tirely upon  his  poorer  brethren. 

In  the  middle  of  March  1771,  he  died  at  Long- 
leat,  and  was  buried  in  the  church-yard  of  Frome 
Selwood,  having,  according  to  his  own  desire  been 
carried  to  the  grave  by  six  of  the  poorest  men  in  the 
parish,  and  interred  without  pomp  or  ceremony,  "  Ali 
glory  be  to  God"  was  ever  his  motto. 

"  His  moral  character,"  says  Mr.  Macaulay,  "  when 
impartially  reviewed,  sustains  a  comparison  with  any 
in  ecclesiastical  history,  and  seems  to  approach,  as 
near  as  human  infirmity  permits,  to  the  ideal  perfeC' 
tiou  of  Christian  virtue." 


BOYHOOD  OF  DR.  PARR. 

This  learned  and  eminent  divine  was  born  at  Har« 
row,  on  the  15th  January,  1747.  His  father  was  a 
surgeon  and  apothecary  there,  and  so  enthusiastic  a  Ja- 
cobite that  he  had  rashly  advanced  nearly  the  whole 
of"  his  property  in  the  cause  of  the  exiled  house  of 
Stuart.  This  unfortunate  circumstance  no  doubt 
rendered  it  much  more  difficult  in  a  pecuniary  point 
of  view  than  it  would  otherwise  have  been,  for  his 
highly-gifted  son  to  pursue  those  congenial  and  well- 
ioved  studies,  which  eventually  rendered  him  at  once 
a  vigilant  pastor,  and  a  man  of  gigantic  and  ponderous 
learning.  He  was  almost  in  infancy  recognized  as  a 
boy  of  rare  and  precocious  intellect,  which  displayed 
itself  in  an  extraordinary  grammatical  knowledge  of 
the  Latin  language,  acquired  as  early  as  his  fourth 
year.  At  this  extremely  juvenile  age  he  was  taught 
to  dispense  medicines,  but  did  not  show  any  signs  of 
taking  to  his  father's  business,  which  was  quite  foreign 
to  his  taste.  Without  being  one  of  those  children  de- 
scribed by  American  novelists,  as  dying  of  too  much 
grace  and  goodness,  th<  re  appeared  in  him,  from  the 
first  dawn  of  boyhood,  indications  of  a  natural  bias 
toward  the  sphere,  in  which  he  was  destined  to 
move. 

At  the  age  of  nine  he  was  admitted  as  a  scholar 


344  niVINES. 

on  the  foundation  of  Harrow  school,  of  which,  ere 
five  years  had  passed,  he  became  the  head  boy.  He 
always  looked  forward  to  being  a  clergyman,  and 
used  to  practice  himself  by  preaching  to  his  school- 
fellows, and  pronouncing  funeral  orations  over  dead 
birds,  cats,  and  dogs.  One  day  Dr.  Allen  found  him 
sitting  alone,  on  the  church-yard  gate,  apparently  in 
deep  and  studious  meditation. 

"  Why  don't  you  join  the  other  boys  in  their  play  ?" 
asked  the  Doctor,  a  little  surprised  at  his  solitary 
position. 

"  Do  you  not  know,  sir,"  replied  Parr,  with  a 
seriousness  becoming  the  subject  "that  I  am  to  be  a 
parson  ?" 

About  this  time  he  is  said  to  have  written  some 
sermons,  and  composed  a  drama  from  the  book  of 
Ruth,  his  first  literary  .attempt. 

His  humanity  to  animals  was  extreme,  and  the 
only  battle  he  ever  fought  at  school  was  in  defense 
of  a  worried  cat ;  but,  notwithstanding  this,  he  had  a 
strange  fancy  for  felling  oxen  at  the  slaughter-house. 
Another  juvenile  peculiarity  was  his  delight  in  ringing 
church-bells,  to  gratify  which  he  put  forth  the  whole 
of  his  strength.  Whether  or  not  he,  like  his  distin- 
guished contemporary.  Sir  William  Jones,  regaled 
himself  with  tea  to  stimulate  the  studious  faculty  and 
ward  off  "  balmy  sleep,"  it  is  certain  that  his  aver- 
sion to  it  was  at  one  period  peculiarly  strong.  Being 
on  one  occasion  invited  by  a  lady  to  partake  of  the 


BOYHOOD  OF  DR.  PARR.  34i 

beverage,  he  uttered  this  pointed  and  deUcate  com- 
phment : 

"Non  possum  ^e-cum  vivere,  nee  sine  <c." 

Oa  leaving  school  he  attended  for  two  or  three  years 
to  his  father's  profession  ;  but  had  no  particular  am- 
bition for  such  distinction  as  could  be  therein  acquired. 
His  studies  did  not  suffer  so  much  from  this  circum- 
stance as  might  have  been  expected  ;  for  he  fell  upon 
the  plan  of  getting  some  of  his  former  associates  to 
report  to  him  the  master's  remarks  on  the  lesson  of 
each  day  ;  and  thus  not  only  kept  the  flame  of  learn- 
ing still  burning  within  him,  but  made  almost  as 
much  progress  by  private  study  as  he  had  done  when 
subjected  to  the  discipline  of  the  school  and  the  danger 
of  the  birchen  rod. 

His  father,  finding  the  inclination  of  his  boy-divino 
too  strong  to  be  thwarted,  at  length  consented,  at  his 
own  earnest  desire,  that  he  should  be  sent  to  Eman- 
uel College,  Cambridge,  where  he  was  accordingly 
entered,  in  1765. 

His  father's  death,  a  very  short  time  after,  left  him 
almost  penniless,  and  this  compelled  him  to  leave  the 
new  scene  of  his  studies  with  a  sad  heart ;  but  not- 
withstanding all  disappointments  and  privations,  he 
resolutely  pursued  the  career  for  which  nature  had 
bountifully  fitted  him,  and,  in  1767,  became  assistant 
at  Harrow ;  where  he  had  under  his  tuition  Sheridan, 
Halhed,  and  John  Shore,  afterward  Lord  Teignmouth. 

In  JI760  he  was  ordained  to  the  curacy  of  Willesden, 


M6  DIVINES. 

in  Middlesex,  which  he  resigned  the  following  year 
la  1771  he  was  created  A.M.  by  royal  mandate,  to 
qualify  him  for  the  head-mastership  of  Harrow,  then 
vacant ;  but  failing  to  obtain  the  appointment,  he  re- 
signed his  situation  as  assistant,  and  opened  a  school 
at  Stanmore,  whither  he  was  followed  by  a  large  num- 
ber of  the  Harrow  scholars.  The  enterprise  not  prov- 
ing successful,  he  afterward  accepted  the  mastership 
of  the  Norwich  Grammar  School.  In  1781  he  pub- 
lished his  two  sermons  on  education,  which  subject 
he  subsequently  discussed  in  a  quarto  volume  ;  and, 
about  the  same  time,  took  the  degree  of  L.L.D.  at 
Cambridge.  In  1781  he  was  presented  to  a  prebend 
in  St.  Paul's,  and  to  the  perpetual  curacy  of  Hatton, 
to  which  he  retired.  In  1807  he  was  on  the  point 
of  obtaining  the  bishopric  of  Gloucester,  but  a  change 
of  administration  frustrated  the  intention  of  his  friends 
in  this  respect. 

Oa.  the  6th  of  March,  1825,  he  died  at  Hatton,  in 
his  seventy-eighth  year,  and  was  followed  to  the  grave 
by  a  large  concourse  of  eminent  men,  of  various  rclig' 
ious  pers'^iasions. 


BOYHOOD  OF  DR.  CHALMERS. 

This  distinguished  divine  was  unquestionably  ona 
of  the  greatest  and  most  powerful  pulpit-orators  tht3 
world  has  ever  seen,  and  he  was  also  one  of  the  best 
of  men.  He  is  acknowledged  by  all,  whatever  their 
views  and  opinions  on  the  subject  with  which  hia 
name  is  chiefly  associated,  to  have  been  guided  by  the 
worthiest  motives,  sustained  by  the  highest  spirit,  and 
animated  by  the  loftiest  aspirations.  His  boyhood 
presents  an  example,  which  may  be  most  profitably 
studied  and  mused  on  by  youth  ;  because  in  his  wildest, 
and  merriest,  and  most  mischievous  days  he  never  for- 
got the  duty  he  owed  to  Him,  to  whose  service  hia 
life  was  piously  and  actively  dedicated. 

He  was  born  on  the  17th  of  March,  17S0,  the  sixth 
of  a  family  of  fourteen  children,  at  Anstruther,  a  sea 
port  town  of  Fife,  and  one  of  five  small  boroughs  that 
then  returned  a  member  to  Parliament.  There  his 
father,  for  several  years  the  provost,  carried  on  a  flour- 
ishing business  as  a  general  merchant,  as  his  father, 
the  son  of  a  Scottish  clergyman  and  the  grandson  of 
a  "  laird,"  had  done  before  him.  The  parents  of  this 
great  man  seem  to  have  been  strictly  religious,  and 
to  have  endeavored,  by  precept  and  example,  to  con 
vey  devout  impressions  to  the  minds  of  their  numer- 
ous offspring. 

When  two  years  old,  he  was  placed  in  the  charge 


348  DIVINES. 

of  a  nurse  whose  cruel  treatment  and  deceitful  coa- 
duct  he  remembered  through  life  ;  and  to  his  last 
years  he  was  in  the  habit  of  talking  of  the  inhumanity 
with  which  she  treated  him.  This,  however,  had 
she  effect  of  producing  a  rare  willingness  to  go  to 
tchool,  where  he  was  placed  at  the  age  of  three.  His 
parents  had  not,  as  may  be  imagined,  much  time  to 
devote  to  the  instruction  of  so  very  numerous  a  family ; 
and  the  young  scholar  was  left  to  profit  as  he  best 
might  by  the  daily  lessons  he  received  from  the  public 
preceptor.  This  worthy,  however  competent  he  might 
have  been  in  former  years,  had  at  that  time  become 
too  old  and  too  blind  to  be  a  successful  imparter  of 
knowledge ;  but  he  ratained  all  that  enthusiastic  love 
of  flogging  that  characterized  the  teachers  of  the  pe- 
riod, and  indulged  it  to  an  extent  which  his  pupils 
did  not  by  any  means  admire  or  rehsh.  Even  in  tota'. 
blindness,  the  ruling  passion  was  so  strong  that  he 
exerted  his  ingenuity  to  the  utmost  to  bring  the  un- 
wary imps  within  reach  of  his  implements  of  torture. 
When  utterly  sightless,  he  employed  as  an  assistant 
a  Mr.  Daniel  K-amsay,  who,  being  semewhat  eccen- 
tric, sought  distinction  without  finding  it,  by  writing 
a  treatise  on  mixed  schools,  which  has  since  slum- 
bered, unread  and  uncut,  on  many  a  dusty  shelf — 
Having  little  to  induce  him  to  do  so,  Chalmers  did 
not  at  first  devote  himself  with  any  assiduity  to  hia 
studies.  On  the  contrary,  he  is  still  recollected  as 
one  of  the  idlest,  merriest,  strongest,  and  most  frolic- 


BOYHOOD  OF  DR.  CHALMERS.  349 

some  boys  in  Anstruther  school ;  though  when  he  set 
himself  to  learn,  no  one  could  do  it  so  speedily  or  so 
well.  He  was  remarkably  quick  ;  yet  when  the  awe- 
inspiring  lesson  came  to  be  said,  it  was  generally  found 
half,  or  wholly,  unlearned.  On  such  occasions,  the 
juvenile  offender  was  consigned  to  the  coal-hole,  and 
there  compelled  to  remain  in  a  most  unpleasant  and 
."rksorae  solitude  till  he  had  performed  his  neglected 
duty  to  the  master's  satisfaction ;  but  such  was  the 
quickness  of  his  comprehension,  that  his  terra  of  du- 
rance was  always  the  very  briefest ;  and  he  was  soon 
once  more  directing  or  leading  some  hazardous  ex- 
ploit, and  raising  above  the  youthful  crowd  that  voice, 
which  afterward,  in  tones  of  surpassing  eloquence; 
thrilled  the  hearts  and  swayed  the  judgments  of  men. 
He  was  always,  however,  most  indignant  when  false- 
hood or  ribaldry  mingled  with  their  boyish  mirth,  and 
ever  looked  to  as  a  protector  by  the  weak  and  injured, 
whose  cause  he  was  at  all  times  prompt  to  espouse 
and  defend  against  their  stronger  and  more  powerful 
associates.  Strongly  averse  to  quarrels  and  brawls, 
he  never  failed  to  act  as  peace-maker  when  his  media- 
tion could  be  of  any  avail ;  and  when  his  efTorts  could 
not  be  eff'ectual,  and  his  angry  companions  were  con- 
tending fiercely  with  mussel-shells,  he  was  wont  to 
shelter  himself  from  the  raging  storm  in  some  secure 
retreat,  exclaiming,  in  his  native  dialect,  "  I'm  no  for 
powder  and  ball." 

As  soon  as  he  had  acquired  the  power  of  reading 


350  DIVINES. 

he  imrat'diately  applied  it  to  perusing  and  feeding 
his  imagination  with  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  which 
conveyed  to  him  both  pleasure  and  instruction,  and 
no  doubt  many  a  great  and  burning  thought  destined 
in  other  days  to  be  turned  to  noble  purposes.  When 
a  very  little  boy,  he  was  summoned  to  receive  his 
first  lesson  in  mathematics  from  his  uncle,  a  sailing, 
master  in  the  navy,  who  was  a  man  of  considerable 
attainments  in  mathematics,  and  considered  them 
far  more  important  than  any  other  branch  of  human 
knowledge. 

"  What  is  that?"  asked  the  retired  seaman,  mak- 
ing a  point  on  the  slate. 

"  A  dot^'  answered  the  young  scholar. 

"  Try  again,"  said  the  uncle,  encouragingly,  "  try 
again  ;  what  is  it?" 

"  A  tick,"  was  the  reply. 

Several  members  of  the  family  to  which  Dr. 
Chalmers  belonged  had  been  clergymen,  and  at  as 
early  a  period  as  he  could  form  and  announce  a  pur- 
pose, he  declared  his  intention  of  becoming  one 
Some  passages  in  the  Bible  had  been  early  impress- 
ed on  his  memory,  and  when  three  years  old  he 
was  found,  one  dark  evening,  alone  in  the  nursery, 
pacing  up  and  down,  and  repeating  to  himself  some 
cf  the  sayings  of  David.  He  very  soon  fixed  upon  a 
text  for  his  sermon,  and  is  still  remembered  to  have 
stood  upon  a  chair,  and  vigorously  preached  from  it 
to  a  single,  but  attentive,  listener. 


CHALMERS'  FIRST  SERMON 


BOYHOOD  OF  DR.  CHALMERS.  353 

It  appears  that  Chalmers  profited  little  by  the  in- 
structiou  he  received  at  Anstruther  school,  and  hia 
parents  resolved  to  send  him  elsewhere.  Accord- 
ingly, in  November  1791,  he  was  enrolled  as  a  stu- 
dent in  the  ancient  University  of  St.  Andrews, 
where  one  of  his  fellow-students  was  the  present  dis- 
tinguished Chief-Justice  of  England.  A  letter  to  his 
mother,  during  the  summer  after  his  session  at  college, 
is  still  preserved  as  the  earliest  specimen  of  his 
writings,  and  proves,  by  its  orthographical  and  gram- 
matical errors,  that  he  had  still  to  commence  the 
task  of  learning  to  compose  with  correctness  in  that 
language,  of  which  he,  ere  long,  became  so  consum- 
mate a  master.  Indeed,  though  the  self-sufficient 
Ramsay  was,  as  time  rolled  on,  excessively  proud  of 
having  taught  him,  Chalmers  was,  when  he  entered 
it,  ill  prepared  by  previous  education  to  benefit  by  the 
instruction  college  afforded  ;  and  the  greater  part  of 
the  first  two  sessions  was  devoted  much  more  to  golf 
and  foot-ball,  the  games  of  the  locality,  than  to  the 
appointed  studies  of  the  place. 

Next  year,  however,  he  began  in  earnest  the  study 
of  mathematics  ;  he  applied  his  mind  to  it  with  ar- 
dor, and  henceforth  his  intellectual  faculties  knew  no 
repose.  He  was  enthusiastic  in,  and  gave  his  whole 
attention  to,  whatever  he  undertook.  Even  after  ho 
was  enrolled  as  a  student  of  divinity,  mathematics 
continued  to  occupy  the  greater  part  of  his  attention, 
and  having  learned  enough  of  French  for  the  purpose, 
Z 


i54  DIVINES. 

he  read  attentively  all  the  principal  writings  in  that 
language  on  the  higher  branch  of  the  subject.  His 
interest  in  the  study  continued  unabated,  and  not  even 
the  attractive  lectures  of  one  of  the  most  eminent  of 
theological  professors  could  win  him  from  his  devotion 
But  toward  the  close  of  the  session  of  1795,  he 
studied  "  Edwards  on  Free  Will,"  and  was  so  ab- 
sorbed with  it,  that  he  could  for  some  time  talk  of 
nothing  else.  He  used  to  wander  early  in  the  morn- 
ing into  quiet  rural  scenes  to  luxuriate  in  solitary 
musing  on  the  mighty  theme. 

In  the  following  summer  he  paid  a  visit  to  Liver- 
pool, where  an  elder  brother  was  settled ;  and  there 
speculations  of  the  loftiest  order  strangely  mingled 
in  his  mind,  with  the  shipping  and  docks  on  one  side 
of  the  Mersey,  and  the  plowed  and  pasture  land  on 
the  other.  He  now  began  earnestly  to  cultivate 
his  powers  of  composition,  and  his  progress  was  so 
remarkably  rapid,  that  in  two  years  he  acquired 
habits  of  quick  and  easy  writing.  When  the  ordinary 
difficulties  of  expression  were  once  overcome,  the 
thoughts  pent  up  in  his  great  soul  found  free  and  open 
vent  in  forms  of  surpassing  power  and  beauty. 
Moreover,  he  very  soon  gave  ample  proof  of  his  ora- 
torical talent  in  the  morning  and  evening  prayers^ 
which  were  then  conducted  in  the  hall  of  the  Uni- 
versity, and  to  which  the  public  were  admitted.  The 
latter  did  not  generally  manifest  particular  eagerness 
to  avail  themselves  of  the  privilege  ;    but  when   it 


BOYHOOD  OF  DR.  CHALMERS.  355 

was  Known  that  Chalmers  was  to  pray,  they  came 
in  crowds ;  and  though  then  only  a  youth  of  six- 
teen, the  wonderful  flow  of  vivid  and  glowing  elo- 
quence showed  exquisite  taste  and  capacity  for  com- 
position, and  produced  a  striking  eflecton  the  throng- 
ing audience.  His  style  is  said  to  have  been  then 
very  much  the  sam3  as  "when  he  produced  such 
splendid  impressions  in  the  pulpit  and  through  the 
press.  For  his  cultivatiou,  in  this  respect,  he  was 
much  indebted  to  his  practice  in  debating  societies 
formed  among  the  students.  He  had  early  become 
a  member  of  the  political  society,  whose  proceedings 
have  not,  unfortunately,  been  recorded  ;  but  in  the 
Theological  Society,  to  which  he  was  admitted 
1795,  he  particularly  distinguished  himself  on  some 
subjects,  which  interested  and  engaged  his  attention 
almost  to  the  close  of  his  earthly  career.  It  is  wor- 
thy of  remark,  that  one  of  the  exercises  written 
during  his  attendance  at  the  Divinity  Hall  on  the 
ardor  and  enthusiasm  of  the  earlier  Christians  sup- 
plied him  Avith  the  very  words  in  which,  forty  years 
after,  he  addressed  four  hundred  of  his  brethren,  when 
they  were  assembled  to  deliberate  on  the  propriety  of 
separating  themselves  from  that  church,  whose  an- 
nals could  hardly  furnish  a  more  bright  or  venera- 
ble name  than  that;  of  the  illustrious  divine,  who 
Btood  in  the  midst  to  cheer  and  sustain  them. 

At  the  close  of  his  seventh  session  at  St.  Andrews, 
(!Jhalmers  accepted  a  situation  as  tutor  to  a  family  in 


356  DIVIMES. 

the  north.  On  the  day  of  his  departure  to  enter  upon 
his  new  duties,  a  somewhat  ludicrous  incident  oc- 
curred. His  father's  whole  household  turned  out  to 
bid  him  farewell,  and  having  taken,  as  he  thought 
his  last  fond  look  at  them,  he  proceeded  to  mount  his 
horse,  which  stood  at  the  door ;  but  having  done  so, 
he  found  himself  in  a  most  awkward  position,  his  face 
being  most  unaccountably  turned  toward  the  ani- 
mal's tail.  This  was  too  much  for  the  gravity  of  all 
parties,  and  especially  for  his  own,  so  vaulting  round 
with  as  much  equestrian  dexterity  as  he  was  raaste": 
of,  he  spurred  on  his  steed,  and  amid  shouts  of  laugh- 
ter, in  which  he  heartily  joined,  soon  left  the  salt-pans 
and  malt-steeps  of  Anstruther  far  behind.  On  ar- 
rival, he  found  his  new  residence  so  exceedingly  un- 
pleasant and  uncomfortable,  that  in  a  few  months  he 
was  compelled  to  relinquish  the  post. 

In  January  1799,  he  returned  to  St.  Andrews, 
and  before  long  applied  to  the  Presbytery  to  be  ex- 
amined preparatory  to  his  obtaining  a  license  as  a 
preacher.  Difficulties  were  raised  from  his  being  too 
young  to  be  intrusted  with  the  sacred  functions  ;  but 
one  of  his  friends  having  luckily  discovered  that  the 
rule  could  be  set  aside  in  the  case  of  an  aspirant  pos- 
sessing rare  and  singular  parts,  he  was,  after  the  usual 
formalities,  licensed  in  the  end  of  July  ;  and,  starting 
immediately  for  the  south,  preached  his  first  sermon 
in  a  Scotch  chapel  at  Wigan,  in  Lancashire,  while  yet 
in  his  twentieth  year.     Betaking  himself  soon  aftei 


BOYHOOD  OF  DK.  CHALMERS  357 

to  Edinburgh,  he  zealously  pursued  his  studies  for  two 
years  at  the  university  of  that  fair  city.  Having  for 
Bome  time  preached  at  Cavers,  in  "  pleasant  Teviot- 
dale,"  he  was  ordained  minister  of  the  parish  of  Kil- 
raany,  May,  1803.  There  he  remained  till  1814, 
when,  having  during  the  previous  year  been  elected 
ti-  the  Tron  Kirk  at  Glasgow,  he  removed  to  under- 
take more  extcn.sive  and  onerous  duties,  and  exercise 
his  genius  in  a  wider  sphere.  In  1814,  being  ap- 
pointed Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy  in  the  Univers- 
ity of  Edinburgh,  he  removed  thither,  and  in  1828, 
became  Professor  of  Theology.  The  degree  LL.D. 
was  conferred  on  him  by  Oxford,  and  he  was  elected 
a  Corresponding  Member  of  the  Royal  Institute  of 
France. 

On  the  31st  of  May,  1847,  he  died  at  his  residence 
at  Morningside,  near  Edinburgh  ;  and  all  who  knew 
him  felt  that  pang  which  accompanies  the  disappear- 
ance of  a  truly  great  and  good  man  from  the  earth. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
Surgeons. 


BOYHOOD  OF  JOHN  HUNTER, 

Tins  remarkable  and  eminent  man,  who  enjoys  tha 
distinction  of  having  been  one  of  the  most  accomplish- 
ed anatomists  that  ever  lived,  was  born  at  Long 
Calderwood,  in  the  county  of  Lanark,  on  the  13th 
of  February,  1728.  The  place  of  his  birth  was  an 
estate  of  which  his  father  was  laird,  as  the  proprie- 
tors of  the  Scottish  soil  are  indiscriminately  termed  ; 
but,  as  the  acres  were  few  and  the  family  numerous, 
he  was  not,  of  course,  reared  in  any  thing  like  ener- 
vating affluence  or  corrupting  luxury.  Nevertheless, 
it  appears  that  he  did  not  in  boyhood  exhibit  an  iota 
of  that  dauntless  industry,  which  characterized  his 
later  years. 

Gibbon  says  with  truth,  that  every  man  who  rises 
above  the  ordinary  level  receives  two  educations — the 
first  from  his  instructors,  the  second,  the  most  personal 
and  important,  from  himself;  and  it  appears  that 
Hunter  was  almost,  if  not  altogether,  indebted  to  self- 


BOYHOOD  OF  JOHN  HUNTER.       359 

culture  fov  any  learning  he  was  ever  master  of.  In- 
deed, in  his  earliest  years  he  was  allowed,  and  perhaps 
even  to  some  extent  encouraged,  to  neglect  the  oppor- 
tunities of  improvement  within  his  reach.  Being  his 
father's  youngest  and  favorite  child,  he  was  not  re- 
quired to  apply  himself  with  an  earnestness  to  study, 
and  it  appears  that  he  afterward  experienced  no  in- 
considerable disadvantage  from  the  want  of  proper 
and  regular  tuition. 

At  the  age  of  ten  he  lost  his  father,  and  about  the 
same  time  was  sent  to  the  grammar-school  of  Glasgow ; 
but,  owing  to  the  unfortunate  system  of  indulgence 
which  was  injudiciously  continued  by  his  mother,  he 
arrived  at  his  seventeenth  year  without  having  made 
any  progress  worthy  of  the  name.  It  was  the  laud- 
able and  wholesome  custom  of  his  country,  pursued 
originally  in  deference  to  a  statute  of  one  of  the 
Jameses,  that  the  sons  of"  lairds"  should  learn  Latin. 
Accordingly,  an  effort  was  made  to  convey  some  knowl- 
edge of  that  language  to  Hunter,  but  with  so  little 
success  that  the  attempt  was  abandoned  in  utter 
despair.  Indeed,  it  was  with  no  small  difficulty  that 
he  was  taught  to  read  and  write  with  as  much  pro- 
ficiency, as  must  have  been  manifested  by  his  father's 
plowman  and  sheep-boy. 

On  leaving  school  he  contrived  for  some  time  to 
amuse  himself  with  such  rural  sports  as  his  native 
district  afforded,  probably  also  employing  himself  in 
switching  hedges,  digging  in  the  kail-yard,  or  driving 


Z<^  SURGEONS. 

cows  from  the  mea»3ows ;  but  it  was  certain  that  he 
could  not  permanently  lead  such  a  life.  The  pater- 
nal estate  had,  as  usual,  gone  to  the  eldest  brother, 
the  other  sons  being  left  to  sink  or  swim,  just  as  for 
tune  and  Iheir  own  exertions  might  befriend  them. 
Moreover,  the  days  were  gone  by  when  the  youths 
of  Scotland  bartered  their  services  and  their  blood 
for  foreign  pay,  otherwise  Hunter  might  have  been 
recruited  by  some  veteran  Dalgetty  on  the  common 
of  the  neighboring  village,  shipped  off  forthwith  to 
France  or  Germany,  and  ere  long  rivaled  the  fame 
of  that  Sir  John  Hepburn,  who  was  regarded  as  the 
best  soldier  in  Christendom,  and  consequently  in  the 
world.  As  it  happened,  he  went  to  stay  with  a  sister, 
who  had  been  married  to  a  cabinet-maker  in  Glasgow, 
took  to  his  brother-in-law's  trade,  and  began  to  learn 
the  manufacture  of  furniture.  Luckily  for  himself, 
though  by  a  circumstance  which  must  at  the  time 
have  been  considered  unfortunate,  he  was  not  per- 
mitted to  spend  his  time  in,  and  devote  his  labors  to, 
the  construction  of  beds,  chairs,  and  tables.  His  rela- 
tive became  bankrupt,  and  having  no  prospect  of  pur- 
suing the  trade  with  success.  Hunter  was  compelled 
to  look  abroad  for  some  other  occupation  ;  and  fortune 
was  eminently  propitious. 

An  elder  brother,  William,  the  seventh  of  the 
brood,  and  ten  years  older  than  our  hero,  having 
studied  medicine  at  the  Scottish  Universities,  had 
^metime  before  this  repaired  to  London,  and  laid 


BOYHOOD  OF  JOHN  HUNTER.       3fi. 

the  foundation  of  the  extraordinary  reputation,  which 
he  was  destined  to  attain.  The  report  of  his  success 
had  possibly  awakened  in  the  younger  brother  a  feel- 
ing of  ambition,  and  his  "mounting  spirit"  began  to 
soar  above  the  humble  station,  which  he  was  then 
occupying.  He,  therefore,  wrote  to  his  already  cele- 
brated brother,  proposing  to  proceed  to  London,  and 
become  his  anatomical  assistant ;  stating  at  the  same 
time  his  intention,  in  case  of  the  offer  not  being  ac- 
cepted, of  enlisting  in  the  army.  The  proposal,  how- 
ever was  treated  with  fraternal  generosity ;  and  the 
surgical  profession  received  into  its  ranks  a  man  capa- 
ble of  adding  immensely  to  its  importance. 

On  arriving  in  London  his  first  efforts  at  dissection 
M'ere  made  with  a  skill,  dexterity,  and  judgment, 
which  augured  most  favorably  for  his  future  career  ; 
and  he  pursued  his  first  success  so  effectually  that, 
before  the  expiration  of  a  year,  he  was  employed  ia 
the  instruction  of  his  brother's  pupils. 

He  was  now  twenty-one,  and  his  subsequent  sur- 
gical achievements  were  worthy  of  the  auspicious  com- 
mencement he  had  made.  He  pursued  his  investi- 
gations at  a  cost  of  money  and  labor  seldom  parellel- 
ed  ;  and  the  interesting  museum,  which  after  his 
death  was  purchased  by  Parliament  and  deposited  in 
the  E-oyal  College  of  Surgeons,  is  a  striking  memorial 
of  the  efforts  and  exertions  he  made  in  pursuing  his 
object. 

He  shortly  became  a  member  of  the  Corporation  of 


?62  SURGEONS. 

Surgeons,  and  was  appointed  surgeon  to  St.  George's 
Hospital.  Hi  was  subsequently  elected  a  Fellow  of 
the  E-oyal  Society,  in  whose  proceedings  he  acted  a 
conspicuous  part,  and  was  selected  as  Inspector-gene- 
ral of  the  Hospitals,  and  Surgeon-general  to  the  army. 
His  time  was  so  incessantly  occupied  with  his  various 
important  avocations,  that  he  only  allowed  himself 
four  hours  in  the  twenty-four  for  rest  and  repose. 
He  died  while  in  the  discharge  of  his  laborious  func 
tions,  at  St.  George's  Hospital,  on  the  16th  of  Octo- 
tober,  1793. 

No  stronger  instance  of  the  advantage  of  study,  ap- 
plication, and  industry,  could  be  cited  than  the  rise  of 
this  wonderful  man,  from  the  upholsterer's  workshop 
to  the  highest  and  most  honorable  position  in  the 
great  profession,  which  he  adorned  by  the  results  of 
his  independent  thought  and  by  the  workings  of  hia 
scientitlc  genius.  "  That  man  thinks  for  himself," 
exclaimed  Lavater,  when  he  looked  on  that  face, 
as  it  seems  to  live  ard  breathe  o.i  the  canvas  of  Sii 
Joshua. 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  ASTLEY  COOPER. 

This  most  scientific  and  enterprising  surgeon  was 
born  at  Brooke  Hall,  an  ancient  manor-house  in  that 
rich  county  of  Norfolk,  which  has,  in  these  latter 
times,  contributed  so  fair  a  share  of  distinguished 
men  to  the  service  of  the  world.  Some  vestiges  of 
the  old  hall  may  yet  be  traced  where  it  stood,  about 
seven  miles  from  Norwich  ;  though  the  whole  place 
has  undergone  a  marked  change  since  the  time  when 
Sir  Astley's  reverend  father  u.sed  to  issue  forth,  on 
Sunday  morning,  in  a  stately  coach,  drawn  by  four 
black  horses,  to  officiate  at  Yelverton  ;  or,  when  he 
himself  plunged  into  the  huge  moat,  shaded  by  the 
branches  of  the  famous  old  oak-tree. 

His  grandfather  held  a  respectable  position,  and 
amassed  a  handsome  fortune  as  a  provincial  surgeon, 
and  was,  moreover,  a  man  of  more  than  ordinary  liter- 
ary attainments.  His  father  enjoyed  a  high  charac- 
ter for  intellect  in  the  locality,  and  reputation  as  a 
divine ;  and  his  mother,  a  woman  of  domestic  vir- 
tues and  mental  endowments,  was  known  as  the  au- 
thoress of  many  works,  several  of  which  were  written 
with  the  praiseworthy  object  of  improving  the  young, 
and  guiding  them  in  the  way  they  should  go. 

The  birth  of  Sir  Astley  took  place  on  the  23d  of 
August,    1768.   and   liis  baptism   in   the   following 


rf64  SURGEONS. 

month ;    a  few  days  after  which  he  was  sent  from 
home  to  be  nursed  by  a  vigorous  country-woman — & 
practice  which  he  afterward  condemned  with  all  the 
weight  of  his  authority,  and  with  an  earnestness  that 
Rousseau  might  have  envied.     However,  the  fact,  in 
his  case,  is  somewhat  interesting,  as  connected  with 
an  occurence  which  subsequently  exercised  a  consid- 
erable and  important  influence  on  his  choice  of  a 
profession.      Meantime,  it  appears  that  he  escaped 
any  fatal  disadvantage  from  the  custom  being  fol- 
lowed, and  was  restored  safe  and  sound  to  his  mother'? 
arms.     His  life  was  soon  after  exposed  to  great  dan- 
ger, from  his  accidentally  running  against  a  knife, 
which,  a  brother,  with  whom  he  was  playing,  was, 
at  the  moment,  holding  in  his  hand,  unclasped.     The 
blade  penetrated  the  lower  part  of  his  cheek,  passed 
upward,  and  was  only  stopped  in  its  deadly  course  by 
the  socket  of  the  eye.      Blood  flowed  profusely,  but 
medical  aid  being  instantly  procured,  the  wound  was 
attended  to,  and  at  length  healed ;   though  the  scar 
remained  visible  to  his  last  days.     As  soon  as  he  was 
old  enough  to  receive  instruction,  he  was  initiated 
into  the  elements  of  education  by  his  mother,  who, 
as  may  be  conceived,  from  her  tastes  and  accomplish- 
ments, was  well  qualified  for  the  task.      Notwith- 
standing her  literary  engagements,  she  managed  to 
devote  a  considerable  portion  of  her  well-spent  time 
to    imparting   knowledge — and    especially   religious 
knowledge — to  her  family,  and  grounded  young  Ast- 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  ASTLEY  CCOPER.  363 

ley  in  the  rudiments  of  English  grammar  and  history, 
for  the  latter  of  which  he  ever  retained  a  strong 
attachment.  At  the  same  time  he  acquired  from 
his  father  as  much  learning  in  the  Latin  and  Greek 
classics,  as  enabled  him  to  read  the  New  Testament 
in  one  language,  and  Horace  in  the  other.  Another 
preceptor  was  the  village  schoolmaster,  who  daily 
attended  at  the  hall  to  instruct  the  young  Coopers  in 
writing,  ciphering,  and  arithmetic.  But  Astley  does 
not  seem  to  have  made  any  particularly  rapid  pro- 
gress under  his  tuition.  Indeed  he  was  much  too 
fond  of  fun  and  frolic,  and  too  much  of  a  boy  in  every 
sense  of  the  word.  His  pranks  were  the  wonder  and 
alarm  of  the  village ;  though  his  frank,  open,  and 
generous  temper  rendered  it  all  but  impossible  for 
any  one  to  be  angry  with  him,  and  they  were  as 
usual,  the  dehght  of  his  youthful  associates.  The 
hazardous  adventures  he  engaged  in  are  not  such  as 
can  be  deemed  worthy  of  applause.  The  very  objec- 
tionable exploit  of  plundering  orchards,  which  then 
prevailed  to  such  an  extent,  that,  as  we  have  seen, 
even  a  future  Lord  Chancellor  could  indulge  in  it, 
was  frequently  practiced  under  his  advice  and  direc- 
tion. He  rode,  without  the  aid  of  a  bridle,  horses 
which  others  were  afraid  to  mount  when  properly 
bitted  ;  drove  out  the  herd  of  cows  from  some  neigh- 
boring pasture,  mounted  on  the  back  of  a  fierce  bull, 
whose  horns  others  would  have  feared  to  approach ; 
and  ran  along  the  eaves  of  high  barns,  with  the  ut- 


866  SURGEONS. 

most  indifierence  as  to  consequences.  On  one  day, 
while  performing  the  latter  feat,  he  fell  from  so  great 
a  height,  that  death  must  have  been  the  penalty  of 
his  giddy  rashness,  but  for  his  tumbling  into  the  sta- 
ble-yard, which,  at  that  time  fortunately  happened  to 
be  filled  with  hay.  On  another,  having  climbed  to 
the  roof  of  the  church,  he  suddenly  lost  his  hold,  and 
was  precipitated  to  the  ground ;  but  escaped  almost 
miraculously  with  a  few  bruises.  On  a  third,  while 
leaping  a  horse,  which  he  had  caught  on  the  common, 
over  a  cow  lying  on  the  ground,  he  was  overthrown 
by  the  anmial  rising  at  the  instant ;  and  though  the 
bold  rider  escaped  unhurt,  the  collar-bone  of  the  steed 
was  broken  in  the  fall.  On  a  fourth,  he  would  tease 
some  hapless  donkeys,  till  severely  kicked  by  them  in 
retaliation. 

But  before  leaving  with  his  father  for  Great  Yar- 
mouth, he  left  a  more  honorable  memorial  of  his  ener- 
getic spirit  than  the  remembrance  of  such  doings  as 
have  been  mentioned.  He  was  not  yet  thirteen 
when  he  gave  a  memorable  proof  of  his  calm  courage 
and  innate  skill  in  dealing  with  that  human  frame, 
which  afterward  formed  the  chief  subject  of  his 
laborious  study.  A  son  of  his  foster-mother,  a  lad 
rather  older  than  himself,  wnile  driving  a  cart  loaded 
with  coals  for  the  vicar,  fell  in  front  of  the  wheel, 
which  passed  over  his  thigh  before  he  could  regain 
his  footing,  and  besides  other  injuries,  caused  a  lace- 
ration of  the  principal  artery.     The  unfortunate  boy 


wm>rimr 


■jtS^^.- 


\.^^'-"^\*'fe^^ 


ASTLEY  COOrER'S  DEBUT  IN  SURGERl 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  ASTLEY  COOPEK.  309 

was  borne  home  utterly  exhausted,  and  sinking  from 
loss  of  blood,  which  flowed  so  copiously  that  surgical 
aid  not  being  at  hand,  the  assembled  villagers,  find- 
ing their  efforts  to  stop  it  utterly  futile,  were  in  ter- 
ror of  his  bleeding  to  death  ;  when  Astley,  having 
heard  of  the  accident,  hurried  to  the  place.  Unde- 
terred by  the  feeling  of  sickness  Avhich  the  sight  of 
Bo  ghastly  a  wound  naturally  produces,  and  undis- 
mayed by  the  affright  of  the  trembling  spectators,  he 
with  consummate  presence  of  mind  and  a  firm  hand, 
instinctively  did  exactly  what  should  have  been  done, 
encircled  the  limb  with  his  handkerchief  above  the 
wound,  and  bound  it  so  tightly,  that  the  bleeding  was 
effectually  stayed  till  the  arrival  of  the  surgeon,  with 
whose  aid  the  boy  was  saved. 

In  after-life  Sir  Astley  used  to  refer  to  this  circutn- 
stance  as  a  remarkable  event  in  his  career  ;  and  he 
regarded  it  as  first  giving  his  mind  the  bent  toward 
that  great  profession  which  he  adorned.  Moreover 
he  was  likely  to  be  incited  in  that  direction  by  the 
example  of  his  grandfather,  who  had  followed  it  with 
honor  and  profit  at  Norwich  ;  and  of  his  uncle,  who 
had  acquired  distinction  as  a  surgeon  in  the  metrop- 
olis. But  though  the  inclination  mutas  agitare  in- 
glorias  artes  was  thus  conceived,  no  steps  were  taken 
to  gratify  it  at  the  time,  nor  does  he  seem  to  have 
made  any  preparation  for  giving  effect  to  it.  On  the 
contrary,  when  settled  in  his  father's  new  parsonage 
a''  Yarmouth,  he  divided  his  time  between  frolicsome 

A  A 


J70  SURGEONS. 

levities  and  evening  parlies,  till  roused  into  action  by 
the  visits  of  his  uncle.  The  professional  knowledge, 
lively  talents,  and  extensive  information  of  this  geu- 
tleraan,  captivated  his  keen-spirited  and  active-mind- 
ed nephew,  who  resolved  forthwith  to  devote  his  liie 
and  energies  to  the  promotion  of  that  science,  in 
which  he  won  such  high  rcnovt'n.  So,  after  witness- 
in""  the  performance  of  an  operation  at  Norwich,  he 
determined  on  becoming  his  uncle's  .pupil,  and  was 
articled  accordingly. 

In  the  autumn  of  1784,  he  took  his  departure 
from  Norwich,  experiencing  to  the  full  those  feelings 
of  melancholy  so  natural  under  the  circumstances. 
However,  the  anticipation  of  one  day  becoming  a 
great  man,  and  the  attractions  of  the  wondrous  city 
to  which  he  was  journeying,  tended  to  dissipate  any 
disagreeable  reflections.  He  was  only  sixteen ;  but 
his  appearance  and  manner  were  particularly  pre- 
possessing, his  conversation  pleasing  and  animated  ; 
and  he  had  within  him  the  energy  and  perseverance, 
which  are,  above  all,  necessary  to  the  achievement 
of  success  in  any  walk  of  life.  No  doubt,  also,  he 
showed  something  of  the  attention  to  his  attire,  which 
afterward  won  him  the  reputation  of  being  one  of  tho 
best-dressed  men  in  the  city  of  London. 

Hi?  uncle,  not  finding  it  convenient  to  receive  tho 
young  aspirant  to  surgical  distinction  into  his  own 
house,  managed  to  obtain  for  him  a  residence  in  that 
of  Mr.  Cline,  an  eminent  surgeon  of  St.  Thomas's 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  ASTLEY  COOPER.  371 

Hospital ;  an  arrangement  most  auspicious  to  his  pro- 
fessional prospects.  At  the  following  Christmas  he 
was  transferred  from  the  pupilage  of  his  uncle,  to  that 
of  Mr.  Cline,  described  by  him  as  "  a  man  of  great 
judgment,  a  slow  and  cautious  operator;  and  a  mod 
urate  anatomist." 

It  is  related  that  one  day  Mr.  Cline  brought  homo 
an  arm,  and  throwing  it  on  the  table  of  his  private 
dissecting-room,  desired  Astley  to  set  to  work  upon  it, 
whereupon  the  later  bent  all  his  powers,  bodily  ami 
mental,  to  the  task,  and  accomplished  it  with  a  suc- 
cess, which  not  only  highly  satisfied  his  instructor,  but 
created  in  him  the  enthusiastic  devotion  to  his  pro- 
fession, by  which  he  was  characterized.  At  all  events, 
it  is  certain  that,  on  being  placed  under  Mr.  Cline, 
he  totally  abandoned  his  juvenile  habits  of  tir^fling 
and  carelessness,  and  applied  himself  to  the  aci^uire- 
ment  of  his  professional  knowledge  by  diligent  study 
in  private,  by  labor  in  the  dissecting-room,  and  by  a 
complete  attention  to  the  lectures  delivered  at  the 
hospital.  He  had  previously  been  elected,  on  the 
nomination  of  his  uncle,  as  a  member  of  the  Physical 
Society,  then  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  valuable  in- 
stitutions of  the  kind  in  London.  By  the  rules  of  the 
society,  every  member  had  to  read  an  essay  in  the 
course  of  the  session,  the  subject  being  a  matter  of 
choice  to  himself.  Sir  Astley  took  that  of  malignant 
diseases  in  the  breast,  or  cancers ;  and  he  thus  at 
once  became  interested  in  a  subject,  the  invesligation 


372  SURGEONS. 

of  whicli  conliaued  to  occupy  his  attention  and  his 
pen  to  the  close  of  his  hfe.  So  great  was  his  industry 
ill  his  new  pursuit,  that,  by  the  following  spring,  his 
proficiency  in  anatomy  far  exceeded  that  of  any  other 
pupil  of  his  standing  in  the  hospital,  and  gave  sure 
presage  of  the  wide-spread  celebrity  he  was  to  attain  ; 
and,  while  visiting  his  father  during  the  vacation,  he 
attended  at  the  surgery  of  Mr.  Turner,  a  relative  of 
his,  who  resided  at  Yarmouth,  with  the  view  of  gain- 
ing information  in  the  practice  of  pharmacy.  His 
evident  change  of  character,  from  gay  to  grave,  con- 
veyed sensations  of  the  most  pleasing  kind  to  the 
hearts  of  his  parents. 

During  his  second  session  at  the  hospital  he  applied 
his  mind  intensely  to  the  study  of  anatomy,  making 
himself  fully  conversant  with  the  structure  of  the 
human  body,  and  paving  the  way  for  those  discoveries 
in  "  pathological  anatomy"  which  have  been  so  bene- 
ficial to  his  profession. 

In  the  winter  of  1786  he  contrived  to  attend  a 
course  of  lectures  delivered  by  the  philosophical  and 
scientific  John  Hunter,  whom  he  regarded  with  great 
interest  and  admiration,  and  from  whom  he  derived 
his  knov/ledge  of  the  principles  of  physiology  and 
surgery,  which  he  afterward  found  so  valuable. 

Next  year  his  thirst  for  knowledge  carried  him  tc 
the  University  of  Edinburgh,  where  he  immediatelj 
attracted  notice  by  his  zeai  and  diligence  in  obtaining 
it.     For  seven  months  he  prosecuted  his  studies  there 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  ASTLEY  COOPER.  6n 

with  great  diligence  ;  and  having  heen  elected  an 
ordinary  member  of  the  Royal  Medical  Society,  ha 
so  highly  distinguished  himself  in  its  discussions,  that 
on  his  leaving  he  was  offered  the  presidency  in  case 
of  his  returning. 

At  the  termination  of  the  session  he  resolved  to 
banish  all  study  for  a  time,  and  undertake  a  journey 
in  the  Highlands — then  no  easy  matter.  He  pre- 
pared for  it  in  almost  as  primitive  a  fashion  as  Bailie 
Nicol  Jarvie  had  done  nearly  a  century  before  ;  and 
Living  purchased  two  suitable  nags,  and  hired  a  serv- 
ant, he  extended  his  tour  to  the  Western  Isles. 

Shortly  after  his  return  to  London,  he  received 
the  well-merited  appointment  of  demonstrator  at  St. 
Thomas's  Hospital,  and  later  was  made  joint  lecturer 
with  Mr.  Cline.  In  this  capacity  he  established  with 
success  a  distinct  course  of  lectures  on  surgery,  which 
had  hitherto  been  treated  in  conjunction  with  an- 
atomy. 

Sir  Astley  had  even  when  a  roving  boy  at  Brooke 
indulged  in  a  romantic  courtship  with  a  young  lady 
of  his  own  age ;  and  so  ardent  was  his  love,  that  after 
leaving  the  neighborhood,  he  one  day,  still  only  thir- 
teen, without  the  knowledge  of  his  family,  made  a 
journey  of  forty-eight  miles  to  pay  her  a  visit,  which 
very  much  pleased  the  fair  damsel,  and  very  much 
surprised  her  worthy  father.  But  however  deep  their 
vows,  they  were  destined  to  come  to  naught ;  and  he 
now  found  a  bride  in  the  new  sphere  of  his  exertions. 


,17*  SURGEONS. 

and  set  off  on  a  trip  to  Paris.  On  arrival,  he  seized 
Ihe  opportunity  to  attend  the  lectures  of  Desault  and 
Chopart,  and  compare  the  practice  of  the  French 
surgeons  with  that  pursued  by  those  of  his  own  coun- 
try. In  1793  he  was  appointed  Professor  of  Anatomy 
to  Surgeons'  Hall.  He  had  already  appeared  as  an 
author  on  those  subjects,  to  which  his  attention  was 
directed  with  great  credit  for  abiUty,  and  for  the 
scientific  manner  in  which  he  had  discussed  them ; 
and  in  1800,  on  the  resignation  of  his  uncle,  he  suc- 
ceeded him  as  surgeon  to  Guy's  Hospital.  Thence- 
forth, his  career  was  brilliant,  and  he  was  created  a 
baronet  by  George  IV.  in  1821.  He  afterward  be- 
came president  of  the  College  of  Surgeons,  vice-presi- 
dent of  the  Pvoyal  Society,  member  of  the  French  In- 
stitute, and  of  the  Academy  of  Sciences.  He  died  in 
February,  1811. 

Sir  Astley  was  the  architect  of  his  own  fortune, 
His  advancement  was  the  result  of  steady  exertion. 
He  thought  for  himself,  and  worked  for  himself,  with 
an  assiduity  and  diligence,  which  rarely  fail  to  bring 
their  rewards — professional  eminence,  public  esteem, 
and  the  ennobling  consciousness  of  duties  faithfully 
Olid  indefatigably  performed. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
Naturalists. 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIE,  JOSEPH  BANKS. 

This  distinguished  naturalist,  though  his  name  ii 
net  associated  with  any  great  work,  or  connected  in 
the  minds  of  men  with  any  memorable  discovery, 
was  in  reality  so  energetic,  enthusiastic,  and  success- 
ful a  promoter  of  science,  as  to  be  pronounced,  by  no 
mean  authority,  to  have  been  "  perhaps  the  most  ac- 
complished botanist  of  his  day,  and  among  the  very 
first  in  the  other  branches  of  natural  history."  His 
zeal  for  science  itself  seems  to  have  been  so  strong 
and  ardent,  that  he  took  no  pains  to  appropriate  or 
perpetuate  the  fame.,  whish  his  zealous  labors  in  the 
cause  worthily  brought  him.  He  was  bom  on  the  2d 
of  February,  1743,  at  Argyle-street,  London,  and  not, 
as  has  been  asserted,  at  Revesby,  in  Lincolnshire, 
in  after  years  the  scene  of  his  hospitality,  when  he 
left  every  summer  for  a  short  while  his  house  in  Soho 
Square,  and  its  noble  library,  which  was  ever  open 
to  the  student  of  science  and  the  literary  laborer.    Ho 


iia  NATUILLLISTS. 

was  the  representative  of  an  ancient  raid  opulent  tat 
ritorial  family,  and  the  heir  of  large  estates 

After  having  been  under  the  care  of  a  private  tutor, 
he  was  placed  at  Harrow  school  in  his  ninth  year, 
but  without  showing  any  marked  liking  for  his  books. 
Four  years  after  he  was  removed  to  Eton,  where,  for 
the  first  twelve  months  he  was  only  remarkable  for 
his  love  of  active  amusement  and  indifference  to  ordi- 
nary study.  His  good-humor  and  cheerful  disposition, 
however,  were  sufficient  to. insure  some  amount  of 
popularity  with  masters  and  boys.  A  change  was 
suddenly  produced  in  his  tastes  and  habits,  which 
developing  itself  with  time,  raised  him  to  the  highest 
honors  in  the  scientific  world  ;  and  his  conversion  is 
thus  accounted  for.  One  day,  he  was  bathing  in  the 
river  with  a  party  of  his  schoolfellows,  and  having 
remained  longer  in  the  water  than  the  others,  was 
not  dressed  in  time  to  leave  the  place  with  them. 
Having  put  on  his  clothes,  he  walked  slowly  and 
musingly  along  the  green  lane  :  and  the  evening  be- 
ing fine,  the  beauties  of  nature  touched  and  impressed 
him  with  an  unwonted  and  peculiar  force.  He  con- 
templated, with  delighted  eye,  the  flowers  that  adorn 
ed  the  sides  of  the  path,  and  exclaimed  with  rapture, 
"  How  beautiful !  Would  it  not  be  far  more  reason- 
able to  make  me  learn  the  names  of  these  plants  than 
the  Greek  and  Latin  I  am  confined  to?"  He  soon 
recollected,  however,  that  it  was  his  duty,  in  the  first 
piice,  to  obey  his  father's  wishes,  and  apply  himself 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  JOSEPH  BANKS.  371 

so  the  prooer  studies  of  the  school.  But  henceforth 
his  passioa  for  botany  grew  ana  waxea  daily  stronger, 
and,  not  finding  any  more  fitting  teacher,  he  employ- 
ed some  women,  occupied  in  gathering  plants  and 
herbs  for  the  druggists,  to  give  him  such  instruction 
as  they  could — the  reward  being  sixpence  for  every 
piece  of  information  they  gave  him.  His  tutor,  so 
far  from  having  reason  to  complain  now,  was  sur- 
prised to  find  him  reading  studiously  and  intently  dur- 
ing the  hours  of  play. 

When  he  went  home  for  the  holidays,  he  was  over- 
joyed to  find  an  old  torn  copy  of  Gerrard's  "  Herbal'' 
in  his  mother's  dressing-room,  full  of  the  names  and 
figures  of  plants,  which  he  had  already,  in  some 
slight  degree,  become  acquainted  with.  He  carried 
the  precious  book  back  to  school  with  him,  and  con- 
tinued his  collection  of  plants,  besides  commencing 
one  of  butterflies  and  other  insects.  His  pedestrian 
powers,  which  were  remarkable,  now  stood  him  in 
good  stead ;  and  his  v/hole  time,  when  out  of  school, 
was  busily  occupied  in  searching  for  and  arranging 
plants  and  insects.  In  one  of  his  excursions  he  fell 
asleep  under  a  hedge,  and  being  mistaken  by  a  game- 
keeper, who  surprised  him  in  that  position,  was 
carried  before  a  magistrate  on  suspicion  of  being  a 
poacher.  A  greater  risk  did  he  afterward  run,  amid 
the  snow  of  Terra  del  Fuego,  when  any  yielding  to 
drowsiness  would  have  been  inevitable  death.  On 
that  occasion,  two  of  the  party  actually  perished  from 


378  NATURALISTS. 

excessive  cold,  and  Banks  himself,  with  Dr.  Solander, 
a  favorite  pupil  of  Linnaeus,  narrowly  escaped  shar- 
ing their  fate.  While  thus  wandering,  our  natural- 
ist contrived  some  days  to  kill  as  many  as  sixty  birds 
with  his  own  hand,  and  thus  added  immensely  to  his 
ornithological  possessions. 

When  Banks  was  eighteen  years  old,  his  father's 
death  put  him  in  possession  of  valuable  estates  in 
the  counties  of  Derby  and  Lincoln ;  but  instead  of 
alluring  him  from  his  favorite  studies,  this  circum- 
stance incited  him  to  pursue  it  with  renewed  and 
redoubled  ardor.  On  going  to  Oxford,  he  found  to 
his  disappointment,  that  no  lectures  were  delivered 
by. the  botanical  professor,  and  immediately  applied 
to  that  personage  for  leave  to  engage  a  lecturer,  to 
be  paid  by  the  pupils  attending  him.  Permission 
being  freely  granted,  and  no  one  in  Oxford  being 
found  prepared  to  undertake  the  duty.  Banks,  with 
that  characteristic  energy  which  he  exhibited  in  all 
future  emergencies  when  in  pursuit  of  knowledge, 
went  forthwith  to  Cambridge,  and  speedily  returned 
with  a  learned  botanist  under  his  wing,  for  whom  he 
afterward  obtained  the  appointment  of  astronomer  to 
Captain  Phipps,  in  his  polar  voyage.  This  gentle- 
man gave  lectures  and  lessons  to  those  who  concurred 
in  the  scheme,  very  much  to  the  profit  and  instruction 
of  Mr.  Banks,  of  whom  Lord  Brougham  writes  in  his 
"  Lives  of  Men  of  Letters  and  Science  ;" — "  Among 
true  Oxoniacs,  of  course,  he  stood  low.     He  used  to 


BOYHOOD  OF  SIR  JOSEPH  BANKS.  379 

lell,  in  after-life,  that  when  he  entered  any  of  the 
rooms  where  discussions  on  classical  subjects  were 
going  briskly  on,  they  would  say,  '  There  is  Banks, 
but  he  knows  nothing  about  Greek.'  He  made  no 
reply,  but  he  would  say  to  himself,  'I  shall  very 
soon  beat  you  all  in  a  kind  of  knowledge  I  think  infi 
nitely  more  important ;'  and  it  happened,  that  soon 
after  he  first  heard  these  jokes,  as  often  as  the  claB- 
sical  men  were  puzzled  on  a  point  of  natural  history, 
they  would  say,  '  We  must  go  to  Banks.' " 

On  leaving  the  University,  when  he  came  of  age, 
he  continued  his  pursuits  with  great  zeal,  and  occu- 
pied much  of  his  time  in  angling,  which  afforded  him 
opportunities  of  observing  the  habits  of  the  fishes. 
In  1766  he  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Royal 
Society ;  and  the  same  year  set  out  on  a  voyage  to 
Newfoundland,  from  which  he  brought  home  an 
interesting  collection  of  plants,  insects,  and  other  pro- 
ductions of  nature.  It  happened  soon  after  that  the 
Government,  at  the  suggestion  of  the  Royal  Society, 
resolved  upon  sending  out  competent  persons  to 
Otaheite  for  the  purpose  of  making  observations  on 
the  transit  of  Venus  over  the  sun's  disc,  expected  to 
take  place  in  1769.  The  "  Endeavor"  was  fitted  out 
for  the  voyage,  and  the  command  of  her  given  to  a 
man  eminently  qualified  for  the  important  office. 

The  great  navigator.  Captain  Cook,  had  early  in 
life,  been  indentured  by  his  humble  parents  to  the 
haberdasher  of  a  small  town  near  Newcastle.      In 


380  NATURALISTS. 

this  situation  he  conceived  so  strong  a  passion  fol 
the  sea,  that  on  some  disagreement  with  his  em- 
ployer he  bound  himself  apprentice  to  a  Whitby  col- 
lier, and  soon  became  proficient  in  practical  naviga- 
tion. 

Having  volunteered  into  the  navy  in  1755,  he 
soon,  by  his  skill,  conduct,  and  diligence,  raised 
himself  to  posts  of  credit  and  confidence.  He  was 
now  presented  with  a  lieutenant's  commission,  and 
appointed  to  the  command  of  the  expedition.  Banks 
obtained  leave  to  accompany  the  celebrated  naviga- 
tor, and  made  his  preparations  worthy  of  a  man  who 
had  an  ample  fortune,  and  knew  how  to  use  it  for 
the  benefit  of  others.  In  this  expedition  he  pro- 
cured a  choice  and  valuable  collection  of  natural 
specimens ;  in  many  cases  at  the  hazard  of  his  life, 
which  was  often  endangered  and  despaired  of  during 
the  voyage. 

When  Captain  Cook's  second  voyage  was  resolved 
upon.  Sir  Joseph  expressed  an  earnest  anxiety  to  ac- 
company the  great,  skillful,  and  gallant  navigator ;  and 
having  been  thwarted  in  his  wish,  he  with  becoming 
spirit  fitted  out  a  vessel  at  his  own  expense,  and  set 
sail  for  Iceland  in  1772.  His  voyage  was  most  pro- 
ductive in  a  scientific  point  of  view,  and  gained  him 
much  and  well-merited  fame. 

In  1778  he  succeeded  Sir  John  Pringle  as  Presi- 
dent of  the  Royal  Society,  and  soon  after  was  created 
a  baronet,  and  invested  with  the  Order  of  the  Batli. 


BOYHOOD  OF  AUDUBON.  38J 

In  1795  he  was  appointed  a  member  of  the  Privy 
Councih 

He  died  full  of  honors,  on  the  19th  of  March,  ]  820, 
leaving  his  library  and  botanical  collection  to  the 
British  Museum,  of  which  he  had  been  a  trustee. 

His  indefatigable  industry,  his  watchful  vigilance 
over  the  interests  of  science,  the  in!repidity  with 
which  he  hraved  perils  by  land  and  sea  in  pursuit  of 
knowledge,  and  his  general  excellences  of  character, 
entitle  him,  in  the  highest  degree,  to  the  regard, 
emulation,  and  admiration  of  posterity. 


BOYHOOD  OF  AUDUBON 

This  great  and  good  man,  whose  mind  combined 
the  vigor  and  elasticity  of  youth  with  the  wisdom  of 
philosophic  maturity,  was  one  of  the  most  earnest  and 
enthusiastic  students  of  natural  history  who  ever 
walked  the  earth ;  and  his  boyhood  was  devoted  to 
the  study  of  the  science,  which  he  afterward  indefati- 
gably  pursued  and  splendidly  illustrated. 

John  James  Audubon  was  born  in  the  year  1776, 
on  a  plantation  in  New  France,  which  at  that  time 
tvas  still  a  dependency  of  the  Bourbons.  His  father, 
an  officer  in  the  French  navy,  had  settled  there  to 
enjoy  dignified  leisure  ;  and  being  a  man  cf  retired 
habits  and  a  cultivated  mind,  early  implanted  in  the 


3»i  NATURALISTS. 

breast  of  his  son  a  love  of  those  natural  objects  to 
which  his  time  and  attention  were  devoted  through 
out  life  with  firm  enthusiasm  and  untiring  energy. 

Almost  in  infancy  he  was  led  to  take  a  lively  in- 
terest in  the  winged  and  feathered  tribes.  A  love  of 
birds  indeed  is,  in  some  degree,  natural  to  the  hearts 
of  children  ;  and  assuredly  no  knight  of  romance,  lay- 
ing his  lance  in  rest,  with  bright  eyes  beaming  upon 
him,  ever  glowed  with  a  purer  chivalry  than  does  the 
little  boy,  when  springing  from  his  comfortable  lair 
on  the  hearth-rug  to  rescue  the  cage  of  his  beautiful 
songster,  from  the  perilous  proximity  of  the  prowling 
cat's  murderous  claws.  But  Audubon's  childish  af- 
fection for  them  was  of  no  ordinary  kind.  In  this,  as 
in  most  cases,  the  character  and  career  of  the  man 
grew  out  of  those  of  the  boy.  His  early  interest  in 
the  animal  creation  was  absorbing ;  and  that  the 
graceful  form  of  birds  might  never  be  absent  from  his 
eye,  he  took  such  portraits  of  them  as  his  uninstruct- 
ed  skill  could  produce. 

The  young  ornithologist  was,  in  accordance  per- 
haps with  the  custom  of  the  more  refined  colonists, 
sent  to  Paris  to  complete  his  education,  but  soon  be- 
came tired  of  such  lessons  as  lie  received.  "  What," 
he  asked,  "  have  I  to  do  with  monstrous  torsos  ar.d 
the  heads  of  heathen  gods,  when  my  business  lie.s 
among  birds  ?" 

He  therefore  returned  with  delight  to  indulge  in 
his  enthralling  study  about  the  fields,  woods,  and 


BOYHOOD  OF  AUDOBON.  33.1 

rivers  of  his  native  place.  A  crowded  and  noisy  city 
seemed  to  him  a  pestilential  prison  ;  he  felt  that  there 
was  a  world  replete  with  life  and  animation  in  the 
quiet,  retired,  solitary  haunts  of  his  warbling  friends , 
and  in  the  contemplation  of  their  manners,  customs, 
iiabits,  and  language,  he  found  food  for  his  thoughts, 
recreation  for  his  mind,  and  subjects  for  his  pen  and 
pencil. 

On  his  arrival  in  America  he  took  possession  of  a 
farm,  given  him  by  his  father,  on  the  banks  of  the 
Schuylkill,  in  Pennsylvania,  where  his  taste  for  his 
favorite  science  strengthened  and  developed  itself 
with  time  and  study.  His  researches  were  prosecuted 
with  unabated  zeal  and  ardor,  and  his  skill  in  draw- 
ing improved  by  practice.  His  devotion  to  ornithology 
prompted  him  to  make  excursions  far  and  wide  over 
the  country.  Arrayed  in  a  coarse  leathern  dress, 
armed  with  a  sure  rifle,  and  provided  with  a  knap- 
sack containing  sketching  and  coloring  materials,  ho 
roamed  for  days,  sometimes  even  for  months  at  a 
time  in  quest  of  animals  to  study  and  portray.  His 
eagerness  was  only  equaled  by  his  patience  :  he  would 
watch  for  hours  among  canes  to  see  some  plumed 
songstress  feeding  her  young  ;  he  would  climb  precipit- 
ous mountains  to  mark  the  king  of  birds  hovering 
over  its  nest,  secure  amid  the  strength  of  rocks.  He 
braved  the  dreadful  perils  of  rushing  tides,  and  tho 
merciless  bowie-knife  of  the  lurking  Indian,  in  order 
to  gratify  his  taste  and  add  to  his  knowledge  ;   and  in 


334  NATUKALISTS. 

pursuit  of  his  object,  he  exhibited  at  oucu  ine  iVosn 
Boul  of  a  child  and  the  courageous  spirit  of  a  hero 
His  wanderings  were  among  unfrequented  solitudes, 
solitary  waterfalls,  and  pathless  groves  ;  and  thus 
despising  hunger,  fatigue,  and  danger,  he  formed  by 
lonely  study  that  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
shapes  and  plumage  of  the  birds  of  the  air,  which  ho 
afterward  displayed  to  the  busy  world  in  his  brilliant, 
interesting,  and  entertaining  volumes. 

Notwithstanding  his  devotion  to  ornithological 
studies,  he  made  up  his  mind  in  early  years  to  brave 
the  terrors  of  matrimony,  and  married  a  woman  who 
fortunately  sympathised  with  his  tastes  and  appreci- 
ated his  talents.  About  the  same  time,  with  a  view 
of  pursuing  his  investigations  into  nature  to  greater 
advantage,  he  purchased  a  farm  in  Kentucky,  to 
which  he  removed.  His  new  dwelling,  surrounded 
by  impenetrable  thickets,  and  shadowed  by  bound- 
less forests,  was  exactly  to  his  liking ;  and  he  spared 
no  pains  or  toil  to  profit  by  the  natural  treasures 
of  its  rich  and  magnificent  neighborhood.  On  visit- 
ing England  and  Europe,  he  was  welcomed  with 
open  arms  by  men  of  science  and  letters  ;  and  had 
such  honors  bestowed  upon  him  as  the  learned  and 
scientific  societies  had  in  their  power  to  confer.  This 
visit  afterward  led  to  his  publishing  a  work  on  orni- 
thology, ornamented  and  elucidated  by  paintings  of 
birds  and  narratives  of  personal  adventure.  He  con- 
tinued throughout  manhood,  and  even  in  old  age,  an 


BOYHOOD  OF  AUDUBON.  385 

ardent  in  his  chosen  pursuits  as  he  had  been  when, 
in  the  vigor  of  youth,  braving  earthquakes,  fearful 
precipices,  and  yawning  gulfs.  At  sixty  he  undertook 
an  expedition  to  the  Rocky  Mountains  in  search  of 
some  specimens  of  wild  animals,  of  which  a  report 
had  been  conveyed  to  him.  Even  in  the  last  days  of 
his  existence,  when  the  world  was  fading  from  his 
view,  and  his  clear  spirit  was  gently  taking  its  leave 
of  the  earth,  he  showed  signs  of  his  heart  being 
touched  and  liis  imagination  excited,  as  one  of  his 
sons  held  before  his  once  penetrating  eyes  some  of  the 
drawings  associated  with  his  finest  feelings  and  most 
cherished  aspirations. 

He  sank  composedly  into  his  long  sleep,  on  tho 
27th  of  January,  1851  ;  and  his  mortal  remains 
were  interred  in  Trinity  Church  Cemetery,  near  his 
secluded  residence,  quietly  reposing  amid  oaks,  and 
elms,  and  evergreen  foliage.  But  the  intelligence  of 
his  death  went  through  that  civilized  world,  which 
had  profited  so  largely  by  his  arduous  and  disinterest- 
ed favors,  and  wliich  readily  acknowledgps  the  great- 
ness of  his  pure  and  persevering  genius. 


TUB      END. 


BOOKS  BY  THE  ABBOTTS. 


THE  FRANCONIA  STORIES. 

By  Jacob  Abbott.  In  Ten  Volumes.  Beautifully  Illus« 
trated.  IGmo,  Cloth,  90  cents  per  Vol.  ;  the  set  complete, 
in  case,  $9  00. 

1.  Malleville.  C.  Stuyvesant, 

2.  Mary  Bell.  7.  Agnes. 

3.  Ellen  Linn.  8.  Mary  Erskine. 

4.  Wallace.  9.  Rodolphus. 

5.  Beechnut.  10.  Caroline. 


MARCO  PAUL  SERIES. 

Marco  Paul's  Voyages  and  Travels  in  the  Pursuit  of 
Knowledge.  By  Jacob  Abbott.  Beautifully  Illustrated. 
Complete  in  G  Volumes,  16mo,  Cloth,  90  cents  per  Volume. 
Price  of  the  set,  in  case,  $o  40. 

In  Ne-w  York.  In  Boston. 

On  the  Erie  Canal.  At  the  Springfield  Anu< 

In  the  Forests  of  Maine.  ory. 

In  Vermont. 


RAINBOW  AND  LUCKY  SERIES. 

By    Jacob    Abbott.      Beautifully    Illustrated.      ICmo, 
Cloth,  90  cents  each.     The  set  comjilete,  in  case,  $4  r)0. 

Handle.  Selling  Lucky. 

Rainbovy's  Journey.  Up  the  River. 

The  Three  Pines. 


YOUNG  CHRISTIAN  SERIES. 

By  Jacob  Abbott.  In  Four  Volumes.  Richly  Illus- 
trated with  Engravings,  and  Beautifully  Bound.  12mo, 
Cloth,  fl  7.")  per  Vol.  The  set  complete,  Cloth,  $7  00;  ia 
lialf  Calf,  ^14  00. 

1.  The  Young  Christian. 

2.  The  Corner  Stone. 

3.  The  Way  to  Do  Good. 

4.  Hoaryhead  and  M'Donner. 


Books  hy  the  Abbotts. 


HARPER'S    STORY   BOOKS. 

A  Seriesof  Narratives,  Biographies,  and  Tales,  for  the  In- 
struction and  Entertainment  of  the  Young.  By  Jacob  Ab- 
bott. Embellished  with  more  than  One  Thousand  beauti- 
ful Engravings.  Square  ito,  complete  in  12  large  Volumes, 
or  3G  small  ones. 

"Harpeb'b  Stoky  Books"  can  be  obtained  complete  iu  Twelve 
Volumes,  bound  in  blue  and  gold,  each  one  containing  Three  Sto- 
ries, for  $21 00,  or  in  Thirty-six  thin  Volumes,  bound  in  crimson  and 
gold,  each  containing  One  Story,  for  $32  40.  The  volumes  may  be 
had  separately— the  large  ones  at  $1  75  each,  the  others  at  90  cents 
each. 

VOL.   I. 

BRUNO ;  or,  Lessons  of  Fidelity,  Patience,  and  Self-De- 
nial  Taught  by  a  Dog. 

"WILLIE  AND  THE  MORTGAGE  :  showing  How 
Much  may  be  Accomplished  by  a  Boy. 

THE  STRAIT  GATE;  or,  The  Rule  of  Exclusion  from 
Heaven. 

VOL.  IL 

THE  LITTLE  LOUVRE;  or,  The  Boys'  and  Girls' 
ricturc-Gallery. 

PRANK ;  or,  The  Philosophy  of  Tricks  and  Mischief. 

EMMA ;  or,  The  Three  Misfortimes  of  a  Belle. 
VOL.  III. 

VIRGINIA  ;  or,  A  Little  Light  on  a  Very  Dark  Saying. 

TIMBOO  AND  JOLIBA  ;  or,  The  Art  of  Being  Useful. 

TIMBOO  AND  FANNY;  or,  The  Art  of  Self-Instruc- 
tion. 

VOL.  IV. 

THE  HARPER  ESTABLISHMENT ;  or,  How  the 
Story  Books  are  Made. 

FRANKLIN,  the  Ajiprentice-Boy. 

THE  STUDIO  ;  or,  Illustrations  of  the  Theory  and  Prac- 
tice of  Drawing,  for  Young  Artists  at  Home. 

VOL.  V. 

THE  STORY  OF  ANCIENT  HISTORY,  from  the 
Earliest  I'eriods  to  the  Fall  of  the  Ixoman  Empire. 

THE  STORY  OF  ENGLISH  HISTORY,  from  the 
Earliest  Periods  to  the  American  Ivcvoliition. 

THE  STORY  OP  AMERICAN  HISTORY,  from 
the  Earliest  Settlement  of  the  Country  to  the  Establish- 
ment of  the  Federal  Constitution. 


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